


The Tumblr Archives

by losingmymindtonight



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Another one bites the dust, Carbonite, Diners, Existential Crisis, FIFA World Cup 2018, Gen, Han Solo - Freeform, Hurt Peter, Lullabies, Merlin - Freeform, Near Death Experiences, Panic Attacks, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Queen - Freeform, Reunions, Sleepy Cuddles, Sleepy Peter Parker, Spoilers, Star Wars - Freeform, THAT MEANS SPOILERS, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony and Peter watch soccer, and practically zero thought, do you hear me, god i LOVE sleepy peter, i would die for him, interwebs, its just me screeching, listen i'll add more tags as i add more bullshit, razor scooters, so listen up losers, they have minimal editing, this is literally just a collection of oneshots and drabbles that i wrote on tumblr, this is your place, you want to hear my barely edited rambling about Tony and Peter?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-05-04 13:47:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 33,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14594346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/losingmymindtonight/pseuds/losingmymindtonight
Summary: a collection of informal oneshots and drabbles from my Tumblr





	1. My Hands, They Shake

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [來點沙威瑪？](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14894411) by [celesta1017](https://archiveofourown.org/users/celesta1017/pseuds/celesta1017)



> Hey guys!  
> So, before everyone starts screeching at me to finish my other WIPs, HEAR ME OUT! I've found myself writing a lot of informal drabbles based off of Tumblr posts and throwing them up on my blog, and a couple of people mentioned that I should post them on here so that I have an archive of them saved in one place. So, that's what we're gonna do.  
> This is a collection of barely edited, short, un-researched, bullshit ramblings. They're entirely self-indulgent. I see a post that gives me feels, I vomit words, and then you get this shit.  
> Updates to this will obviously come randomly. One week, I might write five of these things. Another, I might write none. The Muse is entirely in charge with this one, and she can be a finicky little bitch.  
> As always, enjoy! Drop reviews and kudos if you like it! I love you guys!
> 
> LINK TO THE TUMBLR POST THAT INSPIRED THIS CHAPTER: https://the-flightoficarus.tumblr.com/post/173202688854/tonys-hands-shake-when-he-gets-older-due-to-the

It starts in January, just after Christmas. It only takes Tony five minutes with F.R.I.D.A.Y. to confirm what it is. In the end, he’s not even surprised.

He hides it for months. He has to. It is a well known fact that an engineer is only as good as his hands. Tony Stark is just that: a pair of hands that create. If those hands fail, his identity, his  _purpose_ , is lost.

At first, it’s not hard to conceal. He doesn’t see many people besides Pepper, nowadays. Happy is far too busy running SI’s security branch to take much notice of the little things and Rhodey spends more time in D.C. than anywhere else. Pepper does ask about it, once, but Tony bullshits an excuse. He doesn’t know if she really believes it, but she doesn’t ask again. 

There’s only one other person who would notice, and the kid’s at MIT most of the year. In all honestly, Tony misses Peter like hell. Cambridge isn’t far, especially when you have a private jet and a suit that can achieve supersonic flight, but the billionaire has been trying to keep his distance. The kid needs time and space to find who he is outside of Tony Stark and outside of Spider-Man. Tony will be damned if he fucks that up.

But now it’s summer, and Peter is home.

He’d missed the hell out of this kid. They aren’t even talking at the moment. Peter is engrossed in a project in the lab’s corner while his mentor tinkers with Dum-E’s wiring, but there is a contentment inside Tony’s chest that makes the silence the most comfortable sound in the world.

And then his hands start shaking.

He tries to power through, like he always does, but it only takes him five minutes to lose his grip on the screwdriver and send the tool clattering across the floor.

The string of curses slips out before he can even think them through.

“Mister Stark? Is everything okay?”

Peter still calls him Mister Stark. Even after all this time. Even though the young man is very aware of his future inheritance. Even after fighting through a war side by side. This damn kid has never stopped looking at his mentor like the man can lift mountains.

And now he can’t even rewire a damn robot.

“It’s fine, Peter.”

But the kid is peeking over his shoulder now, looking at his shaking hands with a shadow of fear on his face.

_Damn it._

“What’s wrong?” Peter’s eyes are flashing between Tony’s hands and his face. “Mister Stark? Is-is it your anxiety? Do you need something? What-what can I do?”

Peter rarely stutters, anymore. Tony hates that he’s the reason he’s doing it now.

“It’s fine, Peter.”

“You keep saying that, but I can tell it’s not true.”

“It’s  _fine_ , Peter.”

“Stop saying that!”

Tony’s hands are shaking even harder now. He can’t tell if the tremor is just naturally progressing or if his stress is exacerbating it.

“I’m saying it because it’s nothing for you to worry about, kiddo. I’ve got in under control.”

“You don’t always have to do this, you know.”

“Do what?”

“Try to handle everything on your own. You don’t have to. I want to help.”

Peter’s eyes are so genuine. He’d never lost that glimmer of innocence, even after Thanos. Something akin to hope kindles inside Tony whenever he sees it. Whenever he remembers that the kid was beaten, but never broken.

“I know you do, kid. But you don’t have to worry about me.”

“But I  _do_  worry about you, Mister Stark.” Peter is pulling him away from the wires with gentle hands. “And when you shut me out, I just worry more. Please tell me what’s wrong.”

Tony sighed, gripping the couch with white knuckles. Even then, he could still feel the tremor.

“It’s just a little shakiness, Peter. I’m not sick.”

“But…” Peter’s hands ghost over Tony’s. His face has taken on that soft, introspective quality that Tony has come to associate with the kid’s moments of deep thought. “But  _why_ are you shaking?”

“Don’t be an alcoholic, kid. Old age ain’t pretty either way, but it sure doesn’t help.”

Peter’s a genius, so it doesn’t surprise Tony that he connects the dots immediately. “Nerve damage.”

“Yep.”

“Is it…” Peter’s voice is hesitant. “Is it permanent?”

“I don’t know, kid. Is nerve damage usually repairable?” Tony didn’t mean to be curt, but his frustration was leaking out. “What use is a genius level IQ if you’re not going to use it, Peter? Don’t act stupid. It doesn’t suit you.”

Peter blinks. He’s seen Tony be harsh, but it isn’t usually directed at him. He’s seen so much of Tony’s rarer gentle side that the prodigy often forgets that his mentor is a notoriously bitter personality. “I-I’m sorry, Tony.”

Every ounce of anger rushes out of the older man at once. “Don’t apologize, Peter. I’m not angry with you.”

“Who are you angry with, then?”

These are the moments that make Tony’s head spin. The moments he remembers that while Peter isn’t a teenager anymore, he is still so painfully naive.

“I’m pissed at myself, buddy.”

Peter pulls Tony’s hands away from the couch. The billionaire looks down. The kid’s hands are soft and young and  _steady._  They have decades of innovation just waiting for them. A lifetime ahead, glowing like a promise. But for Tony, there is only a clock running low on time. Numbered days. For a moment, he wants to hate Peter for it. 

“Why?”

“What use is an engineer with shaky hands, Peter?”

“But you’re not only an engineer, right?” The kid gives him one of those special smiles that make the older man’s heart fill with all sorts of obnoxiously gooey emotions. “You’re a lot of other things. More important things.”

“Like what?”

“Uh, you’re  _Iron Man_.” Peter says it like there isn’t anything else in the world that could be more important or impressive. It occurs to Tony that to the kid, that’s probably true. “You’re a genius. You’re a billionaire, and the owner of a company, and an icon. And you’re a husband. And a, uh, and a…” Peter blushes, and Tony just barely catches his final words, “and you’re kind of like a dad, too.”

Tony doesn’t need to ask to who.

“You’re a really good kid, Peter.”

Peter looks at Tony like his mentor has just handed him a bushel of stars rather than a half-assed complement, and Tony decides that maybe he is more than a pair of hands, after all. 


	2. Sorry, Mister Stark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter apologizes. After everything that happened with Thanos, Tony doesn't handle it very well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> INFINITY WAR SPOILERS AHEAD! DO YOU HEAR ME??? ARE YOU LISTENING??? DO NOT READ THIS CHAPTER IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN INFINITY WAR! DON'T SAY I DIDN'T WARN YOU, LOSERS.
> 
> LINK TO THE TUMBLR POST THAT INSPIRED THIS CHAPTER: http://mayfernandar5.tumblr.com/post/173366296511/a-concept-after-everything-is-alright-again-tony

Peter bumps the screwdriver out of Tony’s hand with a clumsy elbow. He ducks underneath the workbench as soon as he realizes what he’s done, face already heating up in a blush.

“Oh. Sorry, Mister Stark.”

Tony’s world blurs out. All he can hear is the echoes of a frightened, cracking voice that is all too familiar.

_Mister Stark? I don’t feel so good._

_Please, Sir. I don’t wanna go._

_I’m sorry._

Tony cannot breathe. Peter is dying. He’s dying again and Tony just got him back and he can’t take this. Not again.

“Mister Stark?” Peter sounds scared. Shit. Of course he’s scared. He’s going to die. He’s going to die because Tony can’t save him.

Tony can never save him.

A hand touches his shoulder and Tony flinches back with a choked gasp.

“Oh, shit. I-I’m sorry, Mister Stark.”

No no no no no.  _Peter_. Sweet, young, innocent Peter. He’d tried so hard to protect him. When he’d come back, Tony hadn’t even told him what happened. And the kid had asked. He’d asked and he’d asked and he’d asked.

( _“What happened, Mister Stark?”  
_

_Tony is filled with sudden relief. He prays to an uncaring god that Peter doesn’t remember a single thing. “You don’t remember?”  
_

_“Uh, no. I remember being scared. Like, really really scared. I remember you. And, uh, did you hug me, maybe? I definitely remember someone holding me. And then I remember feeling sort of peaceful, and then nothing else.”  
_

_The words are the sweetest thing Tony had ever heard. “That’s good, kid. Don’t sweat what happened. It’s over now.”  
_

_“But-”  
_

_“Nope. No more questions. C’mon. Don’t you have a science project to work on? Let’s get that done and we’ll watch a movie. Any movie. Your choice, Underoos.”  
_

_“Can we watch Alien?”  
_

_Tony’s heart stills. “Any movie except Alien.”_ )

And Tony had never told him. No matter how obnoxious the kid got. No matter how curious he was. Tony couldn’t tell him.

He made everyone else swear to conceal it, too. Rhodey had been surprisingly easy to convince. Then again, he’d seen Tony stumble of Nebula’s half-wrecked spaceship with a stab wound in his side and an empty look in his eyes. He’d held Tony as the man broke down, screaming and sobbing about a frightened kid and a hand covered in ash.

Maybe Rhodey understood Tony’s urge to protect, now. Maybe he understood that nothing would stand in its way ever again.

Except something could. And it was coming back for the kid Tony had snatched out of its claws.

_You can’t have him. Please. Please. Don’t take him._

_I won’t survive it. Not this time._

“Mister Stark?” Peter’s voice breaks.  _I don’t wanna go._  “F.R.I.D.A.Y.? What-what’s happening? I don’t understand.”

_I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know what’s-_

His eyes had screamed  _fix it, Mister Stark, please_ but Tony couldn’t. All he could do was catch him as he fell and lower him to the ground so he that could disintegrate into the dirt of a planet that was light years away from his home. Press a hand against his shoulder and hold his frightened gaze until the very end. Until Tony fell forward against a ground painted in the ashes of a child who didn’t deserve it.

 _His_ child. _His_ child’s ashes.

“Boss appears to be experiencing a severe anxiety attack.”

Peter sounds seconds away from tears. “Oh, god. What do I do?”

“It is advised that you attempt to help him control his breathing. It may help to ground him in the present moment. It is possible that the attack is rooted in his PTSD.”

“Right.” Peter sounds so unsure that Tony would give anything to reassure him. But he cannot move. He cannot do this again. “I’ve got this.”

There is shuffling, and then soft hands grip Tony’s wrists. He tries to pull away, but the hold is strong and unrelenting.

“Mister Stark? Can-can you look at me? Please?”

_Sir, please._

Tony doesn’t want to open his eyes. If he does, he’ll have to watch his kid crumble all over again. But he had never been able to deny Peter anything, so he looks.

And he sees the white face of Peter Parker. Only this time, he is the one on the ground and the kid is hovering above him. The ground underneath him is not red dirt. It is the smooth linoleum of his lab’s floors.

He is not on Titan. And that means…

“ _Peter._ ”

The kid smiles at him, bright and youthful. “That’s me.”

Tony grabs the kid and envelopes him in his arms. Peter gives a brief cry of surprise before curling against his mentor’s chest hesitantly. Tony adjusts them until the majority of his body is covering Peter’s. His fingers find the pulse point on Peter’s neck and press down shakily.

A steady, slightly elevated  _thump thump thump_ presses back.

“You’re alright.” Tony whispers, trying to block out the echoes of a different planet. A different day. A different reality. “I’ve got you. You’re alright.”

“Uh, Mister Stark?” Peter’s voice is muffled by his mentor’s shirt, but the man doesn’t relinquish his hold. In fact, he presses a firm hand to the back of Peter’s head and drops his face into the teenager’s curls. “Aren’t, um, aren’t I supposed to be the one reassuring you?”

“Shut up, Pete.”

The kid laughs a little, and Tony revels in the way the giggle shakes both their bodies. Peter is alive. Peter isn’t going anywhere.

Tony doesn’t know how long passes with them both curled on the ground, but by the time he speaks both he and Peter are half asleep.

“Hey, Peter?” 

The kid turns his face into Tony’s neck sleepily. “Hmm? Yeah?”

“Don’t ever apologize to me again, okay? Just… just don’t.”

The silence stretches on for so long that Tony is almost certain the kid drifted off on him. Then, just as he is about to give into his own exhaustion, a drowsy murmur rises up from where Peter’s face is pressed against Tony’s throat.

“M’kay.”

Tony waits for Peter to fall asleep before he moves a cautious hand back to the pulse point on the teenager’s neck. He closes his eyes and lets the slow thrum of his kid’s heartbeat lull him into sleep.

And if he wakes up later to a killer backache but a peacefully sleeping Peter, he decides that  _this_ trade was entirely worth it.


	3. Tony Stark/Shawarma Is My OTP

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-battle Shawarma is an Avengers tradition. This time, Tony gets to bring his Spider-kid along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MORE INFINITY WAR SPOILERS AHEAD. BEWARE. TURN AWAY IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN IT YET. OKAY?  
> (alternate title for this chapter: the day I stop writing sleepy!Peter fluff is the day I am 6ft under)
> 
> LINK TO THE TUMBLR POST THAT INSPIRED THIS CHAPTER: https://regaltempo.tumblr.com/post/173641457189/okay-but-honestly-if-there-isnt-an-after-credit

“ _Peter._ ”

Tony whispers the name with the reverence usually afforded to scripture. Steve spins from where he was clutching Bucky to see the billionaire wavering on his feet, eyes locked on a teenager standing just a few feet away.

_So that’s Peter._

He’d heard a lot about this kid over the past month. It was difficult, fighting for a cause that had already failed. Hoping for an outcome that was dauntingly uncertain. They’d all stayed sane by talking about what they were fighting for.  _Who_ they were fighting for.

So Steve talked about Bucky and Sam. Rocket talked about Groot and the other Guardians. Thor talked about Loki and his people. Clint talked about his family. Natasha talked about Wanda and Fury. Okoye and Shuri talked about T’Challa. 

And Tony? Tony talked about Peter.

( _”He can’t use chopsticks.”_

_Tony is sitting on the floor of the Guardians ruined ship. He, Steve, and Rocket are working on repairing it. Well, Tony and Rocket are working on repairing it while Steve does the heavy lifting._

_The genius has a faraway look in his eye as he tells the story. “He’s so bad with them. I tried to teach him once, but we spent hours and by the end he was just as hopeless as when we started.” Tony shoved his fist against his thigh. Grates the knuckles against the leg until they crack and pop in protest. “When I get him back, I’m going to make him learn. I won’t let him out of my sight until he’s a chopstick pro.” The man’s eyes wander to his lap, and his next words come out strained. “Won’t let him out of my sight after that, either. Just to be safe.”  
_

_Steve is quiet for a moment before answering. “Because of the chopsticks.”_

_Tony gives a jerky nod. “Of course. Because of the chopsticks.”_ )

The kid’s eyes widen when he catches sight of his mentor, and then he’s just a blur of motion until his smaller frame slams into Tony’s. Steve is more than a little impressed by the fact that the older man manages to stay on his feet, rocking back with the force of Peter’s jump both otherwise seeming unphased.

“Mister Stark!” The teenager’s voice cracks as he breaks into sobs. “God. I’m so sorry. I’m so,  _so_ sorry. I missed you so much and it was so dark there and all I wanted was to come home and oh my g-”

“Shh, Pete.” Tony threads his fingers into Peter’s hair and rocks him back and forth. There is a paternal gentleness in the man’s movements that Steve has never seen in him before. “It’s alright. You’re alright. Everything’s alright.”

They both drop to the ground, then. Tony pulls the kid into his lap and continues their swaying motion. Peter is babbling nonsensically, violently distraught and shaking with sobs. Steve’s a good few meters away, and the teenager’s frantic gasps are making  _him_ feel panicky, but Tony takes it all in stride. He just holds him close and murmurs gentle, comforting words against the kid’s hairline.

“I’ve got you. It’s okay. Let it out. Just keep breathing for me, okay? Don’t stop breathing. I’m here. You’re not there anymore, buddy. You’re not there. You’re  _home_.”

By the time Peter’s sobs fade into oblivion, the rest of the team and their recently resurrected friends have gathered in an awkward circle. Tony glances up from his kid’s curls, notices their presence, and sighs deeply.

“C’mon, kiddie. Going up.”

The billionaire tugs Peter to his feet, but doesn’t relinquish his grip. He tucks Peter firmly against his side and wraps his arm so tightly around his waist that he pins the teenager’s arms to his sides. The kid doesn’t seem to mind, however. He just leans into the contact with a heavy, exhausted sigh.

“So,” Tony says, projecting his voice across Wakanda’s battle-scarred forest, “is everybody up for some shawarma?”

Steve laughs, high and hysterical. “Really, Tony? That’s what’s on your mind right now?  _Shawarma_?”

Tony shrugs. “I’m hungry.” He turns to Doctor Strange, who is smirking slightly at the billionaire, evidently amused. “So, what do you say, Doctor? Willing to help us get back to New York for some grub?”

The man laughs. His infamously prickly exterior seems to have been softened by the relief of, well, not being dead. “Why not?” The sorcerer conjures a portal with an absent gesture before catching the billionaire’s eyes and giving him a surprisingly sincere nod. “Well done, Tony.”

Tony regards the man silently for a moment. “You knew what would happen. You knew what I would lose.”

“I did.” Strange’s eyes flicker meaningfully Peter, who seems to be dozing on his feet. “I also knew you’d do  _anything_ in the face of that loss. Including, it would seem, the impossible.”

Something unspoken passes between the two men. Steve cannot fathom out what it is, but the moment passes and then Tony is turning to everyone gathered with a smirk.

“If you want shawarma, hop on through.”

And just like that, Tony pulls Peter through the portal and disappears.

“Well,” Natasha drawls, giving Steve a small smile as she saunters after him, “I assume he’s paying. And I could use a good meal.”

–

The adrenaline fades, and exhaustion creeps in.

Half of the group is asleep before they can even fill their stomachs. Steve would be, too, if it wasn’t for his super metabolism tearing through his fatigue and demanding to be sated. He stuffs his face and alternates between staring at Bucky and watching Tony with his kid.

The billionaire refuses to eat until Peter does. The kid tentatively gnaws on his first serving before his appetite finally kicks in. He ends up keeping pace with Steve, Bucky, and Thor for a while, which is impressive. By now, though, the kid is drifting off just like the rest of the superhero congregation.

Tony, on the other hand, seems wide awake, which Steve can tell is bullshit. The man has barely slept a whole night through since Titan. But every time his eyes start to droop with sleep, he shakes himself awake and keeps on staring at Peter.

In a way, Steve understands the feeling. When he isn’t watching Tony, he’s watching Bucky. Memorizing him. Try to push it through his head that he’s  _alive_. That the universe fell apart but they pieced it back together.

( _”He took half the universe.”_

_Steve looks at Tony sideways. “Yes.”_

_“He took the entirety of mine.”  
_

_Peter was the kingpin that held Tony together. The point on which his everything pivots._

_Just like Bucky was Steve’s._

_“We’re going to get them back.”  
_

_“I know. I just wish I hadn’t lost him in the first place.”_ )

By the time Steve shakes himself out of the memory, Peter has slipped sideways until he’s half propped against Tony’s chest and half slumped against the table. His head is pillowed against the billionaire’s arm, which is resting between the pair’s forgotten plates, while one of his shoulders is pressed against his mentor’s ribs.

Tony’s gaze is latched onto the steady rise and fall of Peter’s chest, which is soft and even in sleep. His free hand is alternating between brushing through the teenager’s hair or rubbing circles on the nape of his neck. Steve studies his expression. There is something impossibly tender, and impossibly  _sad_ , on the man’s face. He seems completely oblivious to the rest of the world.

( _”He took the entirety of mine.”_ )

Slowly, ever so slowly, Tony starts to slump forward. Within minutes, he’s curled over Peter’s body, face pressed against the crown of the teenager’s head and face relaxed in sleep. 

And for the first time in months, Tony Stark rests.

Natasha’s voice sounds from the soldier’s left. “Isn’t that a pretty picture?”

Steve glances over to see her watching Tony and Peter with a fond smirk curling the corner of her mouth towards the sky. “Guess it is.”

“Don’t worry,” the ex-assassin is twirling a straw between her fingers, “I think Rhodey snapped one on his phone.”

He laughs, careful not to disturb the myriad of sleepers littered around them. “Tony’ll kill him.”

“Maybe.”

Bucky slips his hand into Steve’s and squeezes. He squeezes back. but keeps his eyes on Natasha. “I’ll have to get Rhodey to send me that picture.”

Nat smiles. “We could frame it. Give it to him for Christmas.”

Peter shifts, and Tony’s hand curls instinctively in his hair, soothing him instantly. Even in sleep, the billionaire is looking out for his kid.

“Sounds like a plan.”


	4. Bow Ties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Pepper finally get married. Peter is adorable, and Tony is a massive dad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to give Tony Stark the happiness he deserves and bask in some irondad fluff. Okay? Okay. Goodbye.
> 
> LINK TO THE TUMBLR POST THAT INSPIRED THIS CHAPTER: https://texasfilmmaking.tumblr.com/post/173813741700/if-avengers-4-does-not-feature-tony-teaching-peter

“You look good, Peter.” Tony smiles at the kid, eyes shining with fondness. “All grown up.”

Peter laughs, pointedly ignoring the little crows of “awe” Rhodey was making from where he was sprawled out on one of the hotel beds. “Yeah?”

His mentor seems determined to ignore his best friend’s mockery too. He gets to his feet and strolls over to grip Peter by his shoulders, sweeping a calculated look over the teenager’s tux. “Yeah.”

One of Tony’s hands slides up to cup the nape of Peter’s neck. He gives it a reassuring squeeze. “You nervous?”

The question makes Peter roll his eyes. “ _ I’m _ not the one getting married in a few hours, Mister Stark.”

“Guess not.” His mentor brushes a thumb against the bow tie hanging around the teenager’s neck. “You know how to do one of those?”

A blush races across Peter’s face. “Well-I, uh, I mean...”

“No biggie. I’ll teach you.” The older man undoes his own tie with a flourish. “Alright. Don’t try to do it yourself yet. Just watch what I do and then you can give it a short after.”

Peter nods, gaze zeroing in on his mentor’s hands. “Got it.”

His laser focus makes another rush of fondness pass over Tony’s face. This time, it’s accompanied by a soft laugh. At Peter’s questioning head tilt, the older man elaborates. “You’re cute when you’re concentrating. You look a little like a puppy.”

Rhodey pipes up from the corner. A glance out of the corner of Peter’s eye reveals that the Colonel is observing the scene with an expression of endearment. That realization only makes the teenager’s blush brighten. “You do. Like a little Labrador puppy.”

Tony’s gaze flickers over to his best friend, a carefree smile curling his mouth upwards. “Right?”

“Okay. Okay.” Peter glowers as the two men laugh at him. “Can you just teach me how to do this?” He realizes that his words could be rude, and adds to them quickly, his voice dropping into the tone he _ knows _ make the billionaire melt. “Please?”

It works. His mentor’s hand cards through Peter’s hair, brushing a few curls away from the teenager’s forehead. “Sure thing, kiddo.”

Peter gives Tony his most winning smile. “You can’t touch my hair once it’s all gelled up, y’know. So, get it out of your system now.”

Tony laughs, ruffling Peter’s hair until nearly ever lock is out of place. “Leave it be, kid.”

The teenager chokes. “Leave it be? Have you  _ seen  _ it?” He pulls an errant curl straight and nearly goes cross-eyed and he tries to glare up at it. “It’s a mess.”

“I like it. And it’s my wedding, so anything I say goes. And I say to leave the curls alone, buddy.” Tony lets his fingers linger for a breath longer against Peter’s scalp before pulling them back to his tie. “Alright. Watch closely.” He starts moving through the steps at a snail’s pace. “First, just tie a normal over knot. Then, make sure one end is a little longer than the other. Like this. See?”

Peter nods vigorously. The teenager can see his mentor fighting back a smile.

“Good. Fold the shorter side up. See how I did that?” Another nod. “Cool. Now, bring your longer end around the top. Make sure you’re using these two fingers to leave an opening. Now, pull that end through and pull it tight.” Tony finishes and adjusts the tie. “Just mess with it until everything looks like you want it to. You got it?”

“I think so.”

Tony grips Peter’s wrists and brings his hands to rest against the tie. “Your try, Pete.”

His fingers fumble with the slippery silk, but his mentor’s calloused hands are gentle and persistent, sliding over Peter’s knuckles as he guides him through each step.

It takes him  _ a lot _ longer than Tony, but he ends up with a crooked but otherwise respectable bow. He grins up at his mentor excitedly and the older man gives him a proud nod, tenderly straightening the tie as Peter tugs at his cuffs.

“Good job, kid. We’ll make a man out of you yet.”

The pair just look at each other for a few seconds. In the end, it’s Rhodey who breaks the moment.

“Alright. Well, as much as I love the father/son bonding going on here, we’ve got things to do.”

Tony claps Peter on the shoulder as he moves away. The teenager didn’t even register how close his mentor had been standing until he left. Something childish in him whined at the lost of the man’s physical proximity.

“Right you are, Rhodey. C’mon, kid. I’ve got to deliver you to Happy for usher duty.”

“Yeah. Right. Of course.”

The older man slides a steadying arm around Peter’s shoulder as he guides him out of the room and down the hall. “You’ll do great. After everyone’s seated, come find me in the back rooms and Rhodey and I will take care of you from there. You’re walking in the processional with May, so that should be fine. After that, all you have to do is stand behind me and try not to look bored during the ceremony. Think you can pull that off?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Happy is waiting for them in the lobby. He’s wearing a tux that matches Peter’s. The ex-bodyguard gives the teenager a genuine smile when his gaze lands on him. “Hey, kid. You clean up nice.” He moves his attention to Tony. “You didn’t have to bring him down here, Boss. I could’ve collected him.”

His mentor just shrugs as he gives Peter a gentle shove towards Happy. “I wanted to bring him.” He pauses right before he moves back to the elevator. “Be good, buddy. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“See ya, Mister Stark.”

Happy nods towards the waiting car. “Move it, kid. Pepper will eviscerate us if we’re late.”

_ That _ got his feet moving. An angry Pepper was  _ not _ something he was prepared for.

_ Ever _ .

\--

Peter gets sent away from usher duty early in order to deliver a bouquet to Pepper.

He’s massively relieved.  _ Especially _ when Happy tells him that he can go straight to Tony afterwards.

Escorting a bunch of strangers to their seats was surprisingly exhausting. 

He knocks nervously and is greeted almost instantly by Black Widow herself. She cracks open the door and peeps out suspiciously. When she sees Peter, her lips twitch up in a rare smile.

“Hey there, маленький паук.”

He smiles at the nickname. “Hi Nat.” He holds up the bouquet. “Uh, delivery for the bride.”

She raises a conspiratorial eyebrow at him. “Promise to tell Tony  _ nothing _ ?”

“I swear.”

“On your life?”

“Duh.”

Natasha opens the door and pulls him in. As soon as he sees Pepper, his mouth drops open.

She looks  _ beautiful _ . And, to be fair, Peter’s knowledge of wedding dresses extends about as far as the few Say Yes to the Dress episodes he’s seen with May, but the dress looks expensive. Then again, she  _ is _ marrying Tony Stark.

The dress itself is satin, and the fabric looks so soft and smooth that he feels a weird urge to touch it. The large bow at the front makes Peter reach up to adjust his own tie impulsively. Pepper’s hair is pinned up in an intricate crown that makes Peter’s head spin when he tries to trace the strands.

The moment she sees Peter, Pepper’s entire face lights up. He decides rather suddenly that the CEO could be wearing a burlap sack and she’d still look radiant. “Peter, honey!”

“H-Hey there, Miss Potts.” He winces a little at his stutter. “Y-you look beautiful.”

“And you look  _ so _ handsome. Come here, sweetheart.”

Peter rushes to her side, offering up the bouquet nervously. She pulls it from his hands and sets it aside without a second glance, opting instead to brush a motherly thumb over his face. “Thank you, Peter. Stick around for a minute and let May have a look at you. I sent her to check on Tony. Is he panicking yet?”

The teenager giggles. “I dunno. Last I saw, he seemed okay. But that was hours ago. I’m heading to him after this.”

“Good.” She winks at him. “Stay close to him, alright? I’m trusting you and Rhodey to keep him together until the ceremony. Think you can do that for me?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He hears a door open and close behind him. May is speaking as soon as she enters. “So, I checked on Tony and, well, it isn’t great. I think he-” She cuts herself off as Peter spins to face her. “Peter!”

She’s on him in an instant, cupping his face and sniffing back tears as she takes in his tux. “Oh, my baby. You look so, so handsome, honey. My handsome baby boy. Look how grown up you are.”

He hears Natasha snicker, and winces. Still, he doesn’t pull away. “Thanks, May.”

Finally, she releases him and brushes a few stray tears away from her cheeks. “Look at me. The ceremony hasn’t even started yet and I’m already crying.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Peter assures, smiling crookedly at her. “So, uh, is Tony okay?”

She winces. “I think you should probably run over there, Peter. Something tells me Rhodey could use the help.”

_ Oh no. _

\--

When Peter slips into the room for Tony and the groomsmen, his mentor is in full panic mode.

The billionaire is pacing, tugging anxiously at his lapel and cuffs and muttering under his breath. Rhodey is standing a few feet away, watching the man with a look of barely contained frustration on his face. He sees Peter before Tony does, and moves to greet him silently.

“Thank  _ god _ you’re here.” The Colonel whispers, obviously trying to avoid catching his best friend’s attention. “I need you to do that thing you do.”

“Uh... what thing?”

“You know. When you get him to go into overprotective dad mode.”

Peter muffles a laugh against his sleeve. “What? Why?”

“Because he’s freaking out, and there’s still fifteen minutes to go. He needs a distraction, but he’s ignored everything I’ve tried.” Rhodey checks that Tony is still pacing rapidly, completely oblivious his surroundings, before continuing. “Make him mother you, or something.”

The teenager rolls his eyes. “How do I even do that?”

“I don’t know! You’re the one that does it all the time.” The Colonel scrutinizes his face briefly.  “Aren’t you nervous?”

“A little.”

“Good. Hype it up. Tell him you’re terrified. Use your puppy dog eyes. Like I said, make him parent you.  _ Please _ , Peter.”

Peter sighs. “Alright. I’ll try, but I really don’t think it’s going to work.” He moves towards his mentor. “Hi, Mister Stark.”

The man whips to face him and desperately tries to school his expression into something that doesn’t resemble pure panic. “Hey, Pete. When did you get here?”

“Just now.” He lies. “What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing. Just waiting.” Tony grips his left wrist. It’s one of his many anxious ticks that Peter’s learned to identify over the years. “You good?”

He forces his breathing to ratchet up a notch and purposefully makes his voice come out strained and wobbly. “Y-Yeah. ‘Course.”

If his mentor wasn’t so stressed, Peter has no doubt that he would’ve seen right through the teenager’s facade. As it was, he buys it immediately. Tony’s eyes narrow and his entire posture changes. The nervous tension bleeding into alertness. His gaze, devoid of anything but parental concern, sweeps Peter up and down as he moves towards him. “What’s wrong, Peter?”

Peter can see Rhodey grinning smugly in his peripheral vision. He forces out a weak stutter as he resists the urge to give the Colonel a good shove. “N-Nothing.”

“Yeah. Not buying it.” Tony is gripping his shoulders now, eyes flickering across Peter’s face. “Want to try the truth?”

_ That would be sort of counterproductive, considering the fact that I’m trying to distract you. _ “I’m just, uh, I’m just a little nervous, I guess.”

Tony’s face softens. He runs a thumb over Peter’s cheekbone. The gesture is so similar to the one Pepper did earlier that it nearly makes the teenager laugh. “Hey, don’t sweat it. Everything’s gonna be fine. Worst part’s already over, buddy.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Tony’s hand migrates from his face to his curls. Peter resists the urge to point out the fact that his mentor is always messing with them. If he does, Tony might stop. And, as childish as it is, Peter  _ really _ doesn’t want him to. “After the ceremony, all you have to do is eat and watch everyone else get drunk. I’ve seen you eat, kid. Something tells me that part’ll be a breeze for you.”

“Maybe I’ll get drunk with everyone else.”

Tony shoots him a warning look. “Don’t make me kick your ass at my own wedding, Pete.”

“I was joking, Mister Stark.”

“You better be.”

A nervous looking attendant pokes his head into the room. “Five minutes until we start, Mister Stark. Everyone should probably get in their places.”

“Shit.” Panic flashes over Tony’s face as his grip on Peter’s shoulders tightens painfully and the hand in his hair tenses. “Shit. Shit. Shit. Who thought this was a good idea?”

Peter answers for him. “Uh... wasn’t it you?”

“Yeah, but I’m stupid. Nobody should listen to me.”

Peter grins cheekily as he, Tony, and Rhodey move out of the room and towards the distant sound of the crowd. “I mean, I’ll agree with you there.”

His mentor shoots him a glare. “Thanks a ton, Pete. Is this karma? Was I really such a bad child that I deserved to end up with a snarky little shit like you for a kid?”

“You love me.”

“Unfortunately.”

They stop when they reach the congregation of bridesmaids and groomsmen that are mulling around by the doors that lead to the ceremony space. Rhodey moves to tug Tony towards a side door.

“Time to go, Tony. Say bye to Tony, Peter.”

“Bye, Mister Stark.”

His mentor just gives him a terrified glance before Rhodey hauls him through the door and, presumably, to the altar.

He can hear Peter’s laughter echoing behind him.

(It makes him feel a little better.)

\--

If Peter’s being honest, the ceremony was one of the most boring experiences of his life.

He’s more than a little glad when it finally ends and the reception begins. He scarfs down every dish at the dinner with vigor. Pepper sat him and May with Happy, Sam, Steve, and Natasha, so the conversation is lively and Peter doesn’t have to stress about remembering anybody’s names.

After dinner comes the actual party, which Peter is a little hesitant about. Afterall, he’s literally the only person at the entire occasion that’s underage. Almost as soon as Tony and Pepper finish their first dance, however, the latter is pulling him into the floor with a glimmer in her eyes.

Tony notices and laughs. “What’re you doing with my kid, Pep?”

Pepper puts Peter’s right hand on her left hip and grabs his free hand in hers, bringing it to shoulder level. “We’re dancing, Tony.”

The billionaire rolls his eyes and slips his arm smoothly through May’s. “My wife has stolen your son, so I’m all alone. May I have this dance?”

Peter doesn’t hear her reply, because Pepper whisks him to the other side of the dance floor in a series of graceful steps. She’s patient and kind, guiding him through the dance with nothing but smiles and ease, even when he stumbles.

“Congratulations.” Peter whispers, glancing slyly at Tony. “He’s really lucky.”

The words sound cheesy, even to him, but they make Pepper smile. “Oh, I know.”

These are the moments where Peter sees exactly why Tony fell in love with her. “I think he knows, too.”

“He better.” She helps Peter regain his balance as he takes a particularly ungraceful step. “I wanted to thank you.”

“For what?”

“Lots of things, really.” She smiled at him. “Giving him something to live for. Reminding him that he’s human. You’re one of the best things that ever happened to him, Peter.” The teenager blushes at the praise. “But I specifically wanted to thank you for distracting him before the ceremony. Rhodey told me.”

“Oh.” She’s thanking him for  _ that _ ? All he really did was stand around and let Tony mess with his hair. “It’s not a big deal. I’m happy to help.”

“I know you are, but that doesn’t mean I’m not grateful.” The song ends, and she releases him. “Well, I think I owe a certain Colonel a dance. Enjoy your night, sweetheart.”

Peter spends the rest of the evening on the outskirts of the festivities, but not in a bad way. He dances with May a few times, and Natasha once, but otherwise chooses to chat with the Avengers and some of the SI employees that he recognizes. The event is so chaotic that he barely sees Tony all night.

The reception finally winds down, and Peter is surprised when his mentor catches his eye and motions for him to follow he and Pepper out to the lobby. The newlyweds planned to leave for the honeymoon as soon as the party ended, so Peter sort of assumed he wouldn’t see them again until they came home in a couple of weeks.

Apparently, Tony had other plans.

He dashes after them with a quick promise to meet May by the elevators when he’s finished. 

Tony greets him with a weary but genuine smile. “Hey, Pete. Sorry I didn’t see you much back there.”

“It’s fine, Mister Stark. I understand.”

“Well, still. You have fun, at least?” Pepper isn’t even trying to conceal the adoration on her face as she watches the two interact. “How was the cake? You like it?”

“Oh, yeah. It was awesome, Mister Stark. Really good.”

“Yeah? Good.” The billionaire clenches and unclenches his fists. “Well, we’ll be back in two and a half weeks. Promise to stay out of trouble until then?” At Peter’s vigorous nod, Tony huffs a laugh. “Okay. Good. That’s good. Pepper worries, you know.”

The woman in question barks out a shameless, indignant laugh. Tony ignores her.

“Anyway, I, uh, I just wanted to check in with you before we left. Say goodbye, and all that.” All of a sudden, there is something deep and serious in Tony’s eyes. “You feeling better?”

_ Oh, right. _

“Yeah, Mister Stark. I feel great.” The teenager shuffles his feet awkwardly for a second before giving into his impulse and murmuring a nervous, “I’ll miss you.”

His mentor’s entire aura softens. He seems to fight with himself for a second before blowing out a breath and tugging Peter into his arms.

“You’re a good kid, Peter.”

Peter crushes his face against Tony’s jacket. The material is different than Tony’s usual suits, but his mentor still smells the same. Cedarwood, motor oil, and metal. Peter sinks into the familiar scents with a hum. “Thank you, Mister Stark. Congratulations, by the way.”

“Thanks, kid.” There is a pause. Tony rubs his hand up and down Peter’s spine. “For everything.”

The teenager smiles against his mentor’s shoulder. “Anytime.”


	5. Helicopter Mentoring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter's vitals spike in the middle of a Monday, and Tony wants to know why.  
> (Hint: it isn't what he thinks)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a conversation I had with caraminha

It’s the middle of the day, and Tony is elbows deep in the engine of his Ford Roadster when the alert goes off.

“Boss?” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice echoes from the walls. “Mister Parker’s heart rate has risen to over 100 beats per minute and his blood pressure appears to be climbing as well.”  


Tony’s head snaps up. “Is he exercising?”

“No, Sir. The tracker in his watch indicates that he is stationary and has not engaged in strenuous physical activity for approximately 14 hours.”  


“Shit.” He wipes the grease off his hands with an old t-shirt. “Call him.”  


“Right away, Boss.”  


The phone rings three times before Peter’s slightly breathless voice squeaks across the line.

“Uh, Mister Stark?”  


“Hey, kid. You wanna tell me why your heart rate and blood pressure are spiking?”  


“Oh, well, I, uh- wait, what? How do you even know that?”  


The billionaire rolls his eyes. “F.R.I.D.A.Y. monitors your vitals. Don’t change the subject.”  


“But I’m not even in the suit right now.”  


“You’re wearing that watch I gave you, right?”

Peter groans. “Oh my god. Did you put F.R.I.D.A.Y. in my watch? What the hell, Mister Stark? That takes helicopter parenting to a whole new level.”

Tony’s heart twinges at Peter’s use of ‘parenting.’ He shoves the emotion down. “Good thing I’m not your parent.”  


“Helicopter mentoring, then.” It sounds like Peter’s laughing. “I’m fine, Mister Stark. You can put away the suit you have on standby.”

Tony sort of hates the fact that he actually  _does_ have to disengage the suit he’d been about to send to Peter’s location. The kid knows him too well.

He glances at the screen displaying Peter’s vitals and notices that the numbers seem to be dropping somewhat towards normal as they talk, but they’re still a little too high for Tony’s liking. “Yeah? How come your vitals lit up, then?”

“I’m at school, Mister Stark. I have an oral presentation in Spanish. I’m  _nervous_.”  


Oh.  _Oh_.

“Ah. Well, uh, oh.” He pulls up Peter’s location with a flick of his wrist and quickly confirms that the kid is indeed sitting in the back of his Spanish classroom. He ignores Peter’s snickers as he rapidly hacks into his school’s servers and checks one Peter Parker’s schedule. Yep. The kid definitely has Spanish at 1:15 on Mondays. A glance at the clock confirms that it’s 1:10. “Alright, then. Good. Spanish. Did you, uh, did you study?”

The kid chokes an answer through his laughter. “Yep. A ton. All freaking weekend, actually.”

“Good for you.” Well, at least the kid’s heart rate is back to normal. Maybe all he needed was a distraction. “Well, go clinch that A for me, kiddo.”  


More giggles. Damn this kid, taking amusement from Tony’s distress. “I’ll try.”  


“Oh, and kid?”

“Yes, Mister Stark?”  


“Please take the watch off when you, uh, take care of any adult business, okay? That is not an alert I need to get.”  


“Adult bussine-” Peter’s voice rises several octaves as his mentor’s meaning bleeds through. “I-I don’t-I mean, I’m not-”  


Ah, payback really _is_  sweet. “Bye, kid. Have fun in Spanish class. Remember: watch comes off during your big boy activities.”

“Mister Stark!”

He hangs up to the kid’s indignant squeaks. He laughs loudly when the monitor shows another abrupt rise in heart rate and blood pressure as soon as Tony mentioned sex.

He really loves that kid.


	6. The Suit Knows What You Did In The Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony will take any opportunity to mess with the kid, and this one is just too good to miss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for an anon who left the prompt: "Tony giving Peter advice on girls and/or Tony finding out Peter has a gf..."

“So… Peter.”

The kid doesn’t even look up from his AP Biology homework when he answers. “Yeah, Mister Stark? What’s up?”

Tony strolls over to where the kid is stretched out on the workshop’s couch and gently tugs the book out of his hands. “We need to have a chat.”

Peter’s full attention is trained on his mentor now. “About what? Is it about the Avengers? Is there a mission? I have a Decathlon meet in a few days but I can totally-”

“It’s not superhero related.”

“Oh.” Peter twists sideways and fixes Tony with a confused gaze as the billionaire sits next to him. “What’s it about, then?”

“I had a talk with May yesterday.”

The kid, bless him, seems to be completely oblivious. “That’s… nice?”

Tony sighs. “She told me that you’ve not been checking in when you’re on your patrols as much as you used to. She asked me if everything was okay.”

“Oh, Mister Stark, everything’s totally fine. I was just-”

The billionaire talks right over him. “So I checked the suit’s logs. And, well, it seems like you’ve been taking the suit off in the middle of patrols, kid. There’s chunks of  _hours_  where there’s no activity.”

He’s quiet for a moment, hoping the kid would hop in with a perfectly logical explanation. Instead, the teenager just stares at his lap and fidgets nervously with his hands.

Another sigh. Damn, this parenting shit was hard. He should’ve left this to May. “You wanna tell me why?”

“Does it really matter?”

Tony is slightly surprised by the kid’s words. They were meant to be snarky, but they just come out defeated and…  _shy_? The kid hadn’t been shy with him for  _months_. It makes the billionaire’s heart clench.

“Hey, kid. It’s alright. Whatever’s going on, we’ll handle it. Just tell me what’s up.” He considers his next statement for a moment before pushing it out. “I care about you, kid. And I’m worried. So is May. Just be honest with us, and everything’ll be alright. Can you do that?”

Peter takes a shaky breath. “I was with MJ.”

And… oh. That wasn’t what Tony was expecting. At all. “Your scary friend?”

The blush that races through the kid’s cheeks is bright and awkward. “My scary, uh,  _girl_ friend.”

Tony can’t help it. He laughs. It is loud and breathless and desperately relieved. “That’s it? You’re sneaking out to spend time with your girlfriend? Peter, I thought you were doing drugs or something.”

Peter’s eyes widen. “No! No! I wasn’t-I was just-”

Something clicks in Tony’s head. “Peter. Why were you sneaking into your girlfriend’s apartment at 1:00 am?”

Wow. If Tony thought Peter was blushing brightly before, it was nothing compared to now. “No, uh, no real reason.”

“Yeah?” Tony shoved a hand over his mouth to hide his smirk. This was golden. Truly, wonderfully  _golden_. “Well, congratulations, kid.”

“ _What_?”

Tony shrugs, still fighting back the laughter aching in his chest. “Getting laid for the first time is a big milestone in a young man’s life, and all that jazz. It’s a hell of a lot of fun, isn’t it?”

The kid looks like he’s torn between crying, laughing, and sinking into the floor. “Oh my  _god_ , Mister Stark.”

The fact that the teenager doesn’t stutter out a series of indignant excuses only confirms what Tony had suspected. _Fantastic._  This was, without a doubt, one of the best days of his life. Tony was gonna rib the kid about this moment for  _centuries_. “You’ve got condoms, right?”

“Mister Stark,  _please_ -”

“ _Peter_.”

The use of Tony’s stern voice makes the kid’s protests silence instantly. The teenager gives a dejected sigh before murmuring. “Yeah. I’ve got condoms.”

“You’re using them, right?”

“ _Yes_.”

“Good.” Tony gives the kid’s back a friendly slap. “I’m proud of you, kid. The first notch in your belt.”

“Can I please excuse myself from this conversation?”

“Nope. Not excused.” The billionaire grins at the way Peter shifts uncomfortably. “Well, I’ve only met this girl a few times, and that’s completely unacceptable. So, we’re gonna go on what you kids nowadays call a double date. You and your little girlfriend plus me and Pepper.”

“God, that would be  _so_  embarrassing. Please don’t make me.”

“It’s either a double date, or I tell May what you’ve been up to and she grounds you until you’re 25. You pick, kid. Don’t let me down.”

“You’re not going to tell her?”

The juvenile hope on Peter’s face is adorable. God, how the hell is this precious child actually getting laid? He’s a  _baby_. Still, Tony isn’t about to rain on his parade. He started a hell of a lot younger, and he went about it with a lot less sense than Peter. “Nah. Just… keep the escapades to a minimum, okay? Everything in moderation.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Perfect!” Tony claps his hands and then ruffles Peter’s hair. “F.R.I.D.A.Y.? Call Happy and Rhodey. Tell them we’re having a celebratory dinner with the Spider-kid. Don’t give them an option to decline. It’s mandatory.”

The AI responds about a minute later. “Colonel Rhodes inquires about the occasion we’re celebration.”

“Tell him that our favorite neighborhood vigilante is actually getting some action. We’re celebrating his transition into manhood.”

“Are you sure, Sir?”

Peter buries his face into Tony’s lap with a strangled groan. The billionaire has to choke back a laugh as he sets a hand on the teenager’s head. “Oh, I’m  _definitely_ sure.”


	7. Throw Up On Me Anytime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I don't feel so good."  
> Well, shock will definitely do that to you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> INFINITY WAR SPOILERS AHEAD. HI. THEY'RE HERE. YOU GOOD? OKAY. HERE WE GO.  
> (Infinity War hurt, so I said fuck that.)
> 
> LINK TO THE TUMBLR POST THAT INSPIRED THIS CHAPTER: https://emilylikes.tumblr.com/post/173581033121/wouldnt-it-have-been-great-if-after-peter-said-he

“Mister Stark?”

Tony turns around very, very slowly. He can feel each beat of his heart tearing through his chest.

_Not the kid. Please. Please. Please don’t take my kid._

“I don’t feel so good.”

“You’re alright.”

_You have to be alright, Peter. I can’t live with anything else. I have to take you home._

The kid stumbles forward, clutching his stomach, and looks at his mentor with terrified eyes.

“I don’t-I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know what’s-”

Peter slams into Tony’s chest, and the billionaire scrambles to take his weight. The kid’s entire body is trembling. He wonders, fleetingly, if these were the last moments he would ever hold his kid.

He wished, with all his might, that he’d done it more.

And then, instead of crumbling into ash like Tony imagined, the kid turns his head and vomits down his mentor’s side.

It hits the billionaire suddenly that Peter is solid. He is shaking and gagging and sobbing against Tony’s chest, but he isn’t slipping through Tony’s fingers. No ash or dust is flaking off of him and getting stolen away on the foreign breeze.

He’s been spared. They both have. They played Thanos’ twisted lottery and, somehow, come out on the right side of the 50%.

“You’re just fine, Peter.” Tony guides the teenager to the ground. The billionaire props his back against a piece of twisted rubble and pulls the kid against his chest. “You’re fine. You’re not going anywhere, buddy. You’re just in shock. He didn’t get you. You didn’t get picked.”

“I-I don’t-”

“You’re solid, Pete.” Tony guides the Peter’s hands to his chest and runs the kid’s fingers down across his stomach. “Feel that? Solid. You’re staying right here. Right here with me.”

_Right here with me, Peter. Right here with me._

All of the breath rushes out of the kid on his next exhale. The teenager’s head drops back against Tony’s shoulder. He’s still shaking, although the billionaire isn’t overly surprised by that, but he’s relaxing. He’s breathing. He’s  _solid._

_He’s safe. He’s okay. As long as he’s okay, I can do this. I can survive. I can face the end of the universe and not even flinch._

“I’m sorry.”

Tony starts, craning his neck awkwardly to look down at the boy’s face. “For what?”

“Threw up on you.”

Tony laughs, desperate and tight, as he curls his arms around the kid’s shaking chest. _God. Peter’s alive. Peter’s okay. The universe has fallen but Peter’s okay. That’s all that matters. That’s all that’s ever mattered._  “I forgive you, kiddo. Throw up on me anytime.”


	8. The World Cup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The World Cup is on, and Tony introduces Peter to the wonders of soccer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to the Land of Trash. Enjoy the latest installment of hot, barely edited garbage.
> 
> LINK TO THE TUMBLR POST THAT INSPIRED THIS CHAPTER: http://knightinironarmor.tumblr.com/post/174988777550/with-the-world-cup-going-on-id-like-to-remind

“Hey, look!” Peter bounced up, posture tightening in excitement and pulling him away from where he’d been slouched into Tony’s side. “They got a goal!”

“Yeah, but their player was offside. It doesn’t count.”

“ _ What _ ?”

He gave the back of the kid’s shirt a tug. “There weren’t two defenders in front of the goal scorer when the ball was passed. Means he’s offside, and the goal doesn’t count.”

“How do you even  _ tell _ ?”

“The referee tells.”

“Well how does  _ he _ tell?”

“He just does.”

“By magic?”

Tony smirked. “By magic.”

Peter dropped back into Tony’s side with a huff. The billionaire smothered a wince as the impact knocked the breath out of his lungs. “That’s stupid.”

“That’s the rules.”

“Rules are-”

“Nuh-uh.” He squeezed the arm around Peter’s shoulders in warning. “I wouldn’t finish that one if I were you, Spider-Man. My rules are good rules.”

The kid rolled his eyes. “I’m not talking about  _ your _ rules, Mister Stark. I’m talking about  _ these _ rules.”

There was a finite list of things that could distract Tony Stark from a good soccer game, and it turns out that Peter Parker was one of them. He dropped his eyes down to the kid, TV forgotten. “I’ll let FIFA know about your complaint.”

Peter wiggled around to face him, eyes wide. “Can you actually do that?”

He laughed, ruffling the kid’s hair, and returned his focus to the game without another word.

The kid sat quietly for about 30 seconds before he started fidgeting. Within the minute, he was blurting out more questions.

Which, surprisingly, Tony didn’t mind one bit.

“So who’s gonna win?”

He resisted the urge to scoff.  _ Do you think I’m a psychic, kid? _

Instead, he reached into his infinite well of patience that seemed to appear only when Peter was around and spoke quietly. “It depends. The team in red is supposed to be the better squad, but they’ve been playing pretty terribly the whole tournament. It’d be an upset, but I wouldn’t be surprised if the team in yellow won, especially if their offense keeps this assault up.”

“Offense keeps up... what assault?”

The billionaire pointed to the right of the screen. “Notice how the yellow players have the ball most of the time, and that the play is almost always in the red player’s half of the field?” Peter nodded, eyes locked on the screen and brow furrowed in concentration. If he didn’t know better, Tony would think that he was explaining the secrets of the universe to the kid. He hung onto every one of his mentor’s words like they were forged from gold. “They know that the red team’s defense is their weak spot, so they’re trying to wear them down.”

“Is it working?”

He spared a quick glance at the player’s positions. “So far, yeah."

“Good.” Peter shifted so that his head was propped up against Tony’s shoulder. “I want the yellow team to win.”

“Yeah?” He absently ran his fingers through the kid’s curls, eyes tracing the pattern of the players’ movements. “Why’s that?”

“They’re the underdog. I like the underdog.”

Fondness fuzzed up the billionaire’s throat.  _ You would, kid. _

A few minutes passed in comfortable silence. Tony let himself relax into the background drone of the commentator’s rambling and the steady rhythm of Peter’s breaths. He was so engrossed in the game that he forgot all about the hand that was carding through the teenager’s hair, but the movements never stilled or faltered.

Some things were just instinctual.

"See that guy?” Peter jumped a little, and Tony realized that the kid must have been dozing off on him.  _ Really riveted by the game, I can see.  _ “The one who just got knocked over?” At the teenager’s overly enthusiastic nod, he continued. “He plays for the British team I rooted for when I was growing up.”

“Why’d you root for a British team?”

He shrugged. “I had an American one too, but soccer’s really big over there. It was just for the fun of it, I guess.” He bit back a snarky comment about the choice of a simple penalty over a yellow card for the foul. “The new owners won’t put the money into buying the players that the team needs, though, so the club’s pretty shit now.”

“You can do that? Buy a soccer team?”

Tony smiled softly. “Yeah, of course you can. Why? You want me to buy you one?”

He was only half joking.

Peter giggled. “No, Mister Stark. But... but you seem like you really like this kind of stuff. Why don’t you buy  _ yourself _ one?”

He paused, tuning out the game once again in favor of giving his full attention to the kid. “I’ve thought about it, but I wouldn’t have the time to run it properly. I’ve got too much on my plate with Iron Man and the Avengers and saving the world every other weekend to do something like that just for the fun of it.”

Peter’s voice was sad. “So you don’t do anything just for the fun of it?”

He answered without thinking. “I’m watching this game with you, aren’t I?”

Peter gave him a shy smile. “Oh, yeah. At least you watch the games sometimes.”

Tony rolled the next words around on his tongue before verbalizing them carefully. “Game’s not the fun part, kid.” He gave the teenager’s shoulder a gentle bump. “Fun part’s watching it with  _ you _ .”

The kid’s nervous smile lit up into an unreserved grin. “Really?”

“Of course, buddy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just FYI: Everything I know about soccer comes from my dad. So if anything here is really, REALLY wrong, it's his fault. Just keep that in mind, and feel free to call him out. He's The Worst and deserves it.  
> (I'm kidding I love my dad but seriously tear him to shreds if you want to)


	9. Who Hasn't Had Gay Thoughts?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wassup. My name's Kat, I'm 18, and I care more about interwebs than my own family.
> 
> LINK TO THE TUMBLR POST THAT INSPIRED THIS CHAPTER: http://larry-and-flower-crowns.tumblr.com/post/173642312783/i-am-so-here-for-the-headcanon-that-peter-has-his

Ned and Peter are sitting on the floor of Tony’s workshop, a new Lego set spread out around them, animatedly discussing something to do with Star Wars. In all honesty, Tony isn’t really paying attention. He’s watching Peter for the week while May is out of town on a much needed vacation, free of the stress of keeping one Peter Parker out of trouble, and the kid had  _begged_  him to let Ned come over. He’d been doing a pretty good job of resisting until Peter busted out his puppy dog eyes.

Damn those puppy dog eyes.

The pace of the teenagers’ conversation changes, however, and that’s enough to make Tony tune in absentmindedly.

“So, wed, bed, or behead with Luke, Leia, and Han.”

Tony nearly rolls his eyes are the juvenile line of questioning. Of course the kids would end up thinking with their downstairs brains. Why did he let a bunch of teenagers into his lab, again?

Peter’s answer is immediate. If Tony’s being honest, it’s a little _too_ immediate. “Wed Leia, bed Han, and kill Luke. Sorry, Luke.”

Huh. That’s… an interesting answer. Without hesitation, either. No qualification for the choice of Han. Most boys Peter’s age would be far too concerned about their masculinity to say something like that openly, even to their best friend.

Ned seems unphased. “Dude, Luke is way more your type.”

Tony stills his hands on the StarkPad he’s using to draw up a diagram as Peter shushes his friend quickly. “Ned! Shut up!”

Alright. Time to join in.

“You got a thing for Han Solo, kid?”

Peter groans. “I-I had to choose a guy for one of them, y’know? It’s not a big deal, Mister Stark. It’s just a stupid game.”

Tony watches Ned stare openly at Peter, eyes flickering wildly between his friend and the billionaire seated a few feet away.

It clicks. Tony laughs the moment that it does.

“Jesus, kid. Are you actually hiding your sexuality from me?”

Peter chokes. “W-What? What are you talking about, M-Mister Stark? I, uh, I don’t…”

Ned elbows him in the side. “Dude.”

Tony sighs dramatically. “You’re fine, Peter. I don’t mind if you’re gay. Seriously. And since we’re having a nice heart to heart here, I’ll even admit that I’ve done some pretty gay shit in my time too, bud. As long as you’re using protection, you can screw everyone and anybody that you want and I’ll be a happy guy. Capishe?”

“I’m, uh, not gay.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“I’m not!” Peter’s squeaky exclamation only makes Tony’s smirk widen. “I’m bi!”

“Wow. So you really  _are_  screwing everybody and anybody, huh? Well, congratulations on your optimal sexual orientation, kid. The sky’s the limit, and all that jazz.”

Peter just gapes at his mentor for a second while Ned tries to muffle his laughter in the kid’s shoulder.

Tony tries to break some of the tension. “How long’ve you know, anyway? How’d you figure it out?”

Ned’s entire body is shaking with uncontrollable laughter now, and Peter slaps his arm. “Ned! Stop it!” He turns back to his mentor. “I, uh, well, I wouldn’t say that there was a particular mo-”

The other boy finally detaches himself from Peter’s shoulder to snicker. “It was all because of  _Thor_ , Mister Stark.”

“Ned!”

“Come on! It’s too funny to  _not_  tell him! I mean, he  _knows_ Thor, Peter!”

“Exactly, Ned!”

Tony, meanwhile, is trying to fight back laughter of his own. “I’m sorry.  _Thor_ was the reason for your sexual awakening?”

Peter groans, shoving his face in his hands, while Ned just smirks. “It was  _amazing_ , Mister Stark. We were talking about Black Widow and then Peter just declares, unprompted, that he’d probably rather screw Thor. So I asked him if he was gay and he was like, “no, Ned! Of course not.” But then I was explaining to him that, uh, it isn’t entirely normal to thirst after random guys if you’re not at least a little gay and his entire face goes blank before he says, in the tiniest voice ever: “uh, Ned? I, uh, I think I’m not as straight as I thought.” It was the greatest day of my  _life_ , Mister Stark. I wish you could have seen it.”

Tony is bent over his worktable in hysterics by the time Ned finishes the story. His amusement is only bolstered by the look of pure horror on Peter’s face.

“I can’t believe you told him that!” Peter’s face is flushed so brightly that Tony briefly worries he’ll faint. “Ned!”

His friend only laughs harder, giving Peter a halfhearted pat on the back and burying his face into the other boy’s stomach.

After Tony’s certain Peter isn’t going to keel over on shock, he shoots the pair a winning grin. 

“So… are you two a thing, then?”

“Oh, uh, well, we…”

The billionaire feels a warm fondness run through him at Peter’s awkward stuttering.

_Oh, yeah. They definitely are._


	10. Hit Me Baby One More Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter never knew how to keep his mouth shit. This was something that Tony was more than aware of. He just didn't think anyone would be stupid enough to slap the kid for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just FYI: the two halves of this chapter were written separately, but are connected and both reference the same event so I put them together. The first half is the actual event happening, and the second is the aftermath!
> 
> The first half was inspired by Buckets_Of_Stars, who challenged me to write a ficlet about somebody hitting Peter in a meeting and Tony flipping his shit in 5 minutes (it took me 15). The second half was inspired by parkrstark, who asked for some cuddly fluff to finish that storyline up. If you can't tell, she really likes it when Tony plays with Peter's hair and I aim to please.

The smack echoed across the room.

For some reason, the only thing that penetrated the shock of the situation in Tony’s head was that stupid Schoolhouse Rock song.  _A shot heard round the world…_

Except this wasn’t a shot, and it didn’t start the Revolutionary War.

No. This was so much bigger, and so much worse.

This was the sound of someone  _slapping_  his kid.

In essence, it was also the sound that signed their death warrant.

“What the  _fuck_?” Tony snarled, stalking forward. He felt coiled in a way he’d never experienced before. Primed and angry and full of cool conviction. “I hope you have one hell of an excuse for me to completely disregard keyed up.”

The man, one of the shareholders that had been getting on Tony’s nerves for what felt like literal  _decades_ , spun to face him with a surprising amount of confidence for someone who had just made the biggest mistake of their life. The moment he saw the look on the billionaire’s face, however, his entire being shriveled and shrunk.

_Good_ , Tony thought,  _you should be afraid._

His gaze trailed briefly to the right. Peter was standing flush against the wall, eyes wide and cheek red. He glanced over at Tony as if he was looking for answers. Looking for a cue on how to react.

Frankly, he had nothing to offer him. He couldn’t see past his own blinding anger. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t set it aside.

His want to comfort Peter was being overridden by his fury.

It was such a  _Howard_  thing to do, and that realization left a bitter taste in his mouth.

_I’m supposed to be better than he was._

“He-He was-”

Tony cut the shareholder off before he could even attempt an excuse. “I’m sorry. Is there anything you can possibly say to justify  _hitting a child_?”

His shoulders collapsed. “No.”

Tony swallowed.  _Fuck you, Howard. Fuck you and your legacy. I am not you._ “Get out.” He waved a hand at the rest of the room. “All of you. Out.” He pointed his next words to the ceiling. “F.R.I.D.A.Y.? Tell Happy what happened. He’ll deal with him.”

“Yes, Boss.”

The man left without another word. Smart. Maybe he did have some self-preservation instincts, after all.

Just not enough.

By the time he got enough of a choke hold on his anger to breathe, the room was empty except for him and the kid, who was watching him with suspiciously teary eyes.

_Unacceptable._

“Hey, Pete.” Tony extended a hand out to him, and the teenager stumbled over to him as if they were matching magnets. “C’mere.”

As soon as he was close enough, he brushed a thumb over the kid’s cheekbone. There wasn’t even the tiniest bit of evidence that suggested he’d ever been hit. Tony didn’t know if that was because there hadn’t been any real force behind the blow, or because of Peter’s advanced healing.

It didn’t really matter, he supposed. That shareholder was fucked no matter what.

He’d make sure of it.

“I-I’m s-sorry, Mister Stark.” Peter swallowed, hard. Tony could hear the sobs he was trapping in his chest through his inflection. “I d-didn’t mean to make him a-angry. Honest.”

“You don’t need to apologize, bud.” Anger flared through him at the thought that Peter actually felt guilty after some asshole had fucking  _slapped_  him. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I’m still really, really-”

“Listen, kid. Don’t finish that sentence for both our sake’s. My poor hearts been through enough today.”

Peter grinned, a tiny bit of the weight lifting from his eyes. “Okay, Mister Stark.”

“I’ve told you to call me Tony.”

“I know, Mister Stark.”

“Seriously, Pete. Quit with the Mister Stark. You make me feel old.”

“Sure thing, Mister Stark.”

He looked at the innocence on Peter’s face, hope still unmarred by the harsh realities of the world.

Unmarred by one of the harsh realities he’d just come in contact with. Peter could look into the dark and still come out seeing only light.

And Tony was going to do everything in his power to keep it that way.

\--

Peter had always been clingy.

It had escalated as he and Tony got closer. At first, it presented as unnecessary shoulder brushes and the tendency to fall into his side as the pair walked pretty much anywhere. Now, Tony had grown used to the kid hanging all over him at pretty much every available opportunity.

He pretended to hate it, but it satisfied some deep, instinctual need for pure human proximity that he didn’t get anywhere else.

Sure, he got intimacy from Pepper. But there was something different about closeness with a human being that had zero romantic or sexual conditions. The simplicity of seeking human contact for no other reason than to seek human contact.

Of course, these are the things he would never admit out loud.

Hell, it was hard enough to admit them to himself.

The clinginess always escalated whenever the kid was stressed or sad. It was just a fact. Whenever he knew that Peter was having a rough time, he sort of accepted the concept that he’d have his very own human octopus attached to his hip until his skies got sunnier.

And, obviously, being slapped by someone in a room full of strangers was going to do a number on pretty much  _anyone’s_  mood. So after Tony cocooned Peter back up in the penthouse with a movie and a cup of hot chocolate, he was completely unsurprised that it took Peter all of two minutes to crawl on top of him.

Hell, he’d even sat twisted in a way that invited the gesture.

(And, yeah, he was still pretty shaken up over the whole thing. So, it wasn’t too unwelcome to have a constant, teenager-sized reminder that everything turned out okay.)

He threaded his fingers through Peter’s curls, finding the exact rhythm and path that the kid liked on muscle memory alone. Every once in a while, he’d hit a snag and work at the spot gently until it came undone. He let himself get lost in the pattern. Card, snag, untangle. Card, snag, untangle. Card, snag, untangle.

He had no idea why, but playing with Peter’s hair never failed to bring the kid down from any sort of bad mood. The action seemed to work like some kind of unconscious trigger. No matter how keyed up he was, a minute or two of Tony messing absentmindedly with his curls would always morph the kid from a tightrope of tension to a settled sea.

It was how Tony greeted him, with a brief but affectionate ruffle at the crown of his head. It was how Tony reassured him, brushing his fingertips against the hair that grew at the nape of his neck. It was how Tony got him to fall back asleep after a nightmare, brushing steady circles through his curls until the panic faded into a distant memory.

He wondered, every once in a while, if the kid knew just how receptive he was to the action. He doubted it.

Sure enough, it only took a few minutes of Tony’s gentle rhythm for Peter to melt against his chest. The movie droned on uselessly in the background. Neither of them were paying it much mind, but it did give the room a nice blanket of white noise.

“Hey,” Tony whispered once the kid seemed totally settled, “I’m not mad at you, y’know.”

“I know.”

“Good.” He floundered. Something he’d learned rather quickly with Peter was that the want, the _need_ , to comfort didn’t necessarily mean you actually had the skills to do so. He had the parental instincts down, but he was still working on the parental guidance bit. “I just, uh, wanted to touch base with you there.”

Peter laughed, low and lazy. “Consider the base touched.”

“I hope you aren’t making an innuendo.”

“I wasn’t.” Tony smoothed a hand down the back of Peter’s neck, and the kid’s fingers uncurled from his mentor’s shirt as even more tension leaked out of his shoulders. “Are you?”

“Absolutely not. I’m a responsible adult.”

“Sure.”

“That sounded like sarcasm.”

“Don’t know what that even is, Mister Stark.” Peter settled his cheek more firmly against Tony’s chest. “Never used it before in m’ life.”

He rolled his eyes, keeping his voice quiet so as not to startle the half-conscious teenager sprawled on top of him. “F.R.I.D.A.Y.? Put the lights on Night Mode, please.”

The room going dark was the only response from the AI, and Tony was suddenly grateful that he’d made her advanced enough to assess situations.

“Goodnight, Peter.”

The kid just pushed a lazy hand against his mentor’s chest in acknowledgement, murmuring something unintelligible under his breath.

It didn’t matter. Tony got the message loud and clear.

It was about an hour later that Pepper strolled through the door, stopping suddenly, mid-step, as she realized exactly what she’d walked in on.

Tony gave her a little wave with the hand that wasn’t occupied with spiking Peter’s curls up off his forehead. She laughed, returning the gesture and slowly stepping out of the room. 

When she spoke, she kept her voice quiet enough that he could barely pick it up. “He okay?”

“Yeah.” He assumed Happy had told her about the disaster of a meeting. “You know… just a bad day.”

She nodded, turning to leave and then pivoting back for a final exchange. “You know, Tony, parenthood’s a good look on you. Not that I’m surprised.”

Tony had to forcefully remind himself not to jolt. “You’re not surprised?”

She just smiled. “Not at all.” Her gaze lingered on Peter’s face, eyes sparkling. “I always knew.”


	11. Still The Same Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically, I play with possible parallels between our favorite irondad and spiderson in Civil War vs Avengers 4.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry. I got this prompt and I couldn't stop myself. I need a handler, or something.  
> INFINITY WAR SPOILERS AHEAD!
> 
> Written for an anon who left the prompt: "what if we get a parallel of that scene in civil war where peter is laying down on the ground, seemingly unresponsive, after he gets hit by antman... in avengers 4, peters body comes back and he looks unresponsive, the same position he was in civil war, and tony is on the verge of freaking out bc everyone else came back semi ok but at least they were fuckin awake. tony puts his hand on peters shoulder and peter fights back again. tony grabbing his fists. “Still the same side. You’re okay.”"

Tony let himself bask in the glow of success for all of three seconds before he lunged into action.

If defeating Thanos was the victory, then a certain spider-kid, alive and breathing and decidedly not lost to a cloud of ash, would be his prize.

He found Carol Danvers standing beside Thanos’ body, Infinity Gauntlet glowing dangerously in the low light of Wakanda’s setting sun. Everything around them was painted an eerie gold as the evening rays filtered through the battle’s lingering dust. 

If Tony wasn’t so desperate to get to Peter, he might have stopped to admire how beautiful the aftermath of war could be.

Rocket was only a few steps behind him, one paw wrapped tightly around the wrist of who Tony assumed must be Groot. They shared the briefest nod. This was the kind of acknowledgement that was soul-deep, the kind that came from shared tragedy.

“He’ll be okay.”

Tony gave the raccoon a tight but grateful smile. “Oh, he better be. Or I’ll kick his ass.”

Rocket laughed, his lip curling up in a snarl. “Sounds like a good plan to me.”

Of everyone, he knew that Rocket understood. Both of them knew what it was like to lose a child. To look to the universe and beg  _take me, not them_ , and be met with only silence.

Thanos  _chose_  to sacrifice his child. But Tony and Rocket? That sacrifice was made for them.

“I need to get to Titan.”

Carol gave him a nod, eyes full of compassion, and opened a portal without another word.

He didn’t look back.

He stumbled past the Guardians, blocking out the ruckus of the team reuniting. He stumbled past Doctor Strange, who didn’t even try to intercept his forward momentum. He stumbled past rocks and debris and perilous chasms until he saw the dust-muted glint of the Iron Spider suit.

The Iron Spider suit, which  _wasn’t moving._

“Peter?” He dropped to his knees at the kid’s side and reached out for him.  _Please be solid. Please be alive_. “Buddy? You’re alright, okay? You’re fine.”

_He has to be. He has to be okay. If he’s not, then what was the fucking point?_

The second his hand touched Peter’s shoulder, the teenager shot upwards. His arms flailed out, blearily trying to fight off what he thought was an attacker, and breath ratcheted up to a pace that Tony _really_  didn’t like.

But then again,  _he was breathing_. Tony could hear it.

_Thank god._

His mind flashed back to when he’d just met the kid. The image of him lying, still and unmoving, at that airport tarmac was still enough to send thrills of panic down his spine.

If he really thought about it, that was the beginning. That was the first moment that he’d first realized why parents always seemed to roll their eyes at the phrase “secure your own mask before assisting others.”

It was in his bones now.

“Kid!” He caught Peter’s fists and tucked them back against his chest as gently as he could. “Still the same side. Guess who?” He felt his voice crack a little. “Hi.”

He could see the exact moment Peter realized who he was. Every ounce of fight leaked out of him. He let his head flop back against the Titan dirt on a release of breath, a relieved smile curling across his face.

“Oh, hey. Hi, Mister Stark.” Tony could feel the kid trembling under his hands. “That was-that was really scary.”

His lungs jumped in this throat, and he forced out a wet smile. “Believe me, kiddo. I know.”

It was as if the gravity of the situation descended on Peter all at once. His eyes widened, his lips wobbled, and Tony had all of a second to prepare before the teenager burst into full-body sobs.

It felt wrong, towering awkwardly over the kid while he was sprawled on the ground, so Tony pulled him up against his chest. Peter shoved his face into his shoulder, hands tearing into the back of his shirt, and it felt like a mirror image of another time.

( _”I don’t wanna go. Sir, please.”_ )

He closed his eyes and took a shaky breath. “Pete?”

The kid’s voice was shaky, small,  _young_. “Yeah?”

“Say something.”

“What?”

“Anything.”

_I’ve relived those words a million times. Give me something new to remember._

“I, uh,” Peter trembled, and Tony smoothed a hand down his back in comfort, “I g-guess now is probably a bad time to make a Back to the F-Future reference?”

He laughed into the kid’s curls. “Yeah. We’re banning those movies. We’re also banning field trips, space, and ever leaving me or May’s sights ever again.”

Peter let out a laugh that settled into a sigh, sinking into his mentor’s chest. “Sounds good to me.”


	12. Ice Cream Fridays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony is 100% Peter's dad and the Avengers have never been more amused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. I'm finally updating this fic with all of the prompts I've written over the past few months, so I'm sorry for anyone who subscribed because you're about to get A LOT of notifications.  
> Written for an anon who left the prompt: "can you write where Tony is being a dad in a team meeting and gets teased for it..."

“We should meet for another debriefing this afternoon. Everyone good for around 3:00?”

“Sorry, Rogers.” Tony said, not glancing up from his phone. “Peter’s out at 3:15.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Have Happy get him.”

“No can do. It’s Friday.”

The entire team just stared at him. Tony snorted in indignation.

“Friday is Ice Cream Day. Kid and I are working through all the joints between his school and the Tower. I can’t ditch Ice Cream Day.”

“Tony, this is a meeting about how we’re going to deal with an elusive but highly volatile terrorist network.”

“Sounds like a meeting that can wait until the kid’s on patrol.”

Steve sighed, running a hand down his face. “When’s his patrol?”

“8:00 to 11:00 on weekdays. He gets to stay out until 1:00 on Fridays, though.”

Rhodey didn’t even try to muffle his groan. “Let him go out early, Tony. The kid’ll be thrilled and we can get the meeting over with when it’s still daylight.”

“Nope.” He said, popping the ‘p,’ “Routine is important for teenagers, and he usually eats dinner at 6:30.”

“Which means he could leave at 7:00.”

“Gotta have time to let the food settle, Rhodey. He’ll make himself sick otherwise.”

“I swear-” Sam threw his hands up in the air, laughing a little hysterically, “is this actually happening right now? Is everyone else hearing this?”

“Hearing  _what?_ ” Tony snapped.

“You,” he replied, gesturing wildly at where the billionaire was sitting casually in one of the leather conference chairs and looking completely oblivious, “being a dad.”

Tony just stared, and then spoke in a deadpan. “I’m not his dad.”

Sam snorted. “You know his schedule.”

“I’m his mentor, it’s my _job_  to check up on him.”

“You got new curtains in the Compound because the kid didn’t like the old ones.”

“The kid said that yellow makes him  _anxious_ -”

“You can name all his favorite songs  _in order._ ”

“You  _do_  know that. I’ve heard you list them.” Rhodey added, a little apologetic. “And I mean, Tones, you’ve got his report card hanging up in your lab.”

“Kid got straight A’s in all his AP courses! That’s  _impressive!_ ”

“You’re his dad, Tony.” Steve broke in, trying to cover a smirk. “Honestly, I think the only person who doesn’t know that is you.”

There’s a moment where Tony just blinked, and then sighed. “You forgot Peter.”

Rhodey laughed so loudly that the entire room jumped. “Peter knows it better than anyone, Tones. In fact, the poor kid would probably be heartbroken that you didn’t know it, too.”

“He doesn’t want me as a role model.”

“You wanna bet?” The Colonel tugged out his phone with a smirk. “I think a little demonstration is in order.”

“He’s at school.” Tony muttered. “You can’t call him.”

“He’s at lunch right now, which you know very well.”

“How the hell do _you_  know that?”

“Because I’ve heard you talk about his schedule more than I’d like to admit.” He hit dial and turned the line to speaker as it rang.

“Mister Rhodes, Sir?” Peter’s voice was breathless with excitement, and Tony smothered a fond smile behind his palm. “Is everything okay? Is Mister Stark alright?”

“Everything’s fine, Pete. Tony is, too. Just saw him, actually, and it got me thinking.”

“Oh, yeah? About, uh, about what?”

“Well, remember when you asked me about Father’s Day?” Tony’s eyes snapped up to meet Rhodey’s, and the Colonel just winked. “I think he’d like the first idea you had.”

“You think?” There was a pause, and Tony could practically see the kid scuffing the toes of his ratty Converse against the school’s linoleum floors. “I kinda feel stupid about doing something at all, honestly. What if he thinks I’m being, like, too forward about it?”

“Oh no, Peter, he wouldn’t think that at all. He was just raving about you in the meeting, actually.”

There was such a delicacy to the hope kid’s voice, and it nearly crushed Tony. “He was?”

“Absolutely.”

“Oh, that’s… that’s really nice.” Another pause. “He’s getting me for ice cream today.”

“I heard. He’s really excited.”

“He is?”

“Ice Cream Fridays, right? Made us schedule a meeting around it and everything.” Rhodey smiled. “Hanging around you is good for him, kid.”

“It’s-It’s good for me, too, Sir. It’s… really nice to have him around. I-I’ve always had May but then Uncle Ben and I-well, I didn’t really think I’d have that again, you know?”

Rhodey kicked his feet up on the table, braces whirring mechanically, and went in for the kill.

“Didn’t think you’d get to have another father figure, you mean.”

“Y-Yeah. A father figure. That’s-That’s what he is.” Peter sighed. “Is it…  _okay,_ do you think? For me to think of him like that?”

The entire room swiveled to look at Tony, and Rhodey held out a hand in an invitation for him to give or deny his consent.

He bit his tongue and rolled his eyes, shooting the Colonel a begrudging thumbs up, hyper-aware of the reaction it would incite. Sure enough, the rest of the team scrambled to muffle their amused laughter behind elbows and cushions.

“I think it’s totally fine, Peter.” Rhodey shot Tony another wink. “Something tells me he’d love it, actually.”

“Oh, that’s good.” In classic Parker fashion, he whiplashed the conversation from serious to lighthearted in a split second. His demeanor re-inflated, and his next words were practically vibrating with energy.  _God,_  Tony thought, _I love this kid._  “Do you need anything else from me, Mister Rhodey Sir? It’s just, it’s not like I don’t love talking to you, but I’ve got a Calculus quiz in a bit and I’d love to run through some of my notes before-”

“You’re good, kid. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Yeah! Of course! Oh, and if you see Tony again? Will you, uh- actually, no. Nevermind. I’ll tell him myself. Bye, Mister Rhodey!”

“Bye, Peter. Good luck on your test.”

“Thank you!”

Sam was the first to speak once the line went dead, voice dripping with satisfaction. “Not his dad, huh?”

“Oh, fuck off, Wilson.” Tony pointed dangerously at Rhodey. “And you’d better not spill that kid’s Father’s Day plans, Rhodes. I want it to be a surprise.”


	13. The Peter Procedures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The classic Tony speaking Italian trope + my usual sleepy bullshit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a gift for my love, parkrstark, who deserves nothing but happiness

“Can’t sleep, Pete?”

The kid jolted up, eyes wide and hands fidgety. “Oh. Hi, Mister Stark. I uh,” he let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head a little, “I didn’t think you’d be around.”

Tony smirked, amused. “Didn’t think I’d be around in my own Tower, huh?”

“No! That’s-That’s not what I-what I meant. Sorry. Yeah, no. I, uh-”

He sunk down onto the couch next to the kid, giving his shoulder a little squeeze to cease the tirade of stuttering. “Easy, squirt. I was just playing with you. So, why are we awake at,” he checked his watch and let out a whistle of surprise, “3:00 am?”

Peter shifted, face tired and laden with stress. Tony ached to brush it away, to pull it out and crush it out of existence. 

A little sigh. “Reasons.”

_Make Peter Talk Procedures initiated._

He leaned back against the couch and tugged the kid along with him. He hit no resistance, not that he expected to. As of yet, he’d never seen Peter shy away from physical comfort. 

In fact, the kid seemed to  _thrive_  off of it. Even at moments where Tony himself would prefer for everyone to stay at least twenty feet away from him and remain dead silent, Peter longed for the lull of gentle conversation and an arm around his shoulders.

So he wasn’t really surprised when Peter flopped back against the couch immediately and rolled his head onto Tony’s shoulder, eyes squeezed shut and hands fisting into his mentor’s t-shirt. 

He rubbed a hand up and down the teenager’s spine. “Your eloquence never ceases to amaze me. Care to elaborate?”

Peter broke quickly, just like he always,

_Yep,_  he thought, a little smug, _still got it._

“Tomorrow is December 14th.”

“Ah yes, the dreaded December 14th.” He reached down to flick at the kid’s temple. “What’s December 14th?”

“MIT releases their admission decisions for Early Action on December 14th.”

_Ah._

He felt like kicking himself. Why the hell hadn’t he put that damn date on his calendar? Had F.R.I.D.A.Y. set a reminder? Asked Pepper to make sure he didn’t forget?

Damn it.

“You didn’t tell me that.”

“I didn’t tell anyone that.”

“And why didn’t you?”

“I dunno.” Peter ducked his head low, voice wavering. “Didn’t want to.”

“That’s fair.”

_Get Peter To Calm The Hell Down Procedures initiated._

He let the kid brood for a bit, busying himself with sliding off the hoodie he was wearing. Once it was off, he started threading one of Peter’s arms through the sleeve.

The teenager looked at him with a wrinkled brow. “What’re you doing?”

“Oh c’mon, kid. I know you like stealing my clothes. I’m actually  _giving_  this one to you. Aren’t I nice?”

“But… why?”

“Cause it usually chills you out.” He finished manhandling the kid into the garment and went to do up the zipper. “And you could use some chilling out right about now.”

Peter giggled, wrapping his arms around himself and pushing into Tony’s side. “You think?”

“I  _know_.” 

He pushed himself around until he was half laying on the couch, head propped against the arm and feet still on the floor. It wasn’t exactly a comfortable position, but it did make obvious the opportunity for the kid to tuck himself between Tony and the back cushions. All he had to do was extend his arms in invitation and Peter was snuggling into his chest, demeanor already a little lighter.

“You’ll get in, kid.” He set a hand on the back of his head. “And if you don’t? Fuck it. We’ll do something else. No biggie.”

“Right. Yeah.” Peter sounded sad, and Tony  _hated_  it. When he spoke again, his voice was small, almost pleading. “Everything’ll be okay, right?”

“Course it will, kiddie. You’ve got me, and May, and Ned. At the end of the day, that’s all you need.” He smoothed down one of the kid’s errant curls. “And if MIT doesn’t want you? Then it’s their loss.”

“Really?”

He gave Peter’s shoulder a little squeeze. “Absolutely. You’re the best kid out there. Anybody who doesn’t see that isn’t worth your time.”

Peter yawned, somehow managing to stretch himself even more fully into Tony’s personal space. “Hmm.”

“Get some sleep, Peter.” He tucked the kid’s head in closer. “Whatever happens tomorrow, it’ll be alright.”

The teenager let out a tired breath in response, mouth closing and breaths settling into a much slower rhythm.

Tony watched him, eyes tracing patterns over his face. He couldn’t help but hate the fact that the kid was still so uneasy. Even as he drifted off, he could still see the lines of worry and stress written all over him.

_Get Peter A Good Night’s Sleep Protocols initiated._

(He chose not to dwell on the fact that he had so many internal routines stored up when it came to the kid.)

He started to hum, almost absentmindedly. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t done it before, anyway. He usually hummed some random tune to Peter when he was coming down from a sensory overload, or waking up from a particularly brutal nightmare. It helped him fixate on something.

What  _was_  abnormal was the fact that, at some point, the humming changed into the soft lyrics of a song he hadn’t thought about in a long, long time.

“Stella, stellina, la notte si avvicina…”

The words flowed a lot easier than he’d anticipated. After all, his mother hadn’t sung to him in decades. But the lyrics and melody seemed to be ingrained somewhere deep in his subconscious. Even if he wasn’t entirely sure what the next line would be, his mouth instinctively formed the words.

He’d been a restless child. He quit taking naps way before the other kids in his classes, and he’d resisted his bedtime like the damn thing would kill him.

His mother had learned early on that tucking him into bed was useless. Instead, she’d carry him around the house, bouncing him gently and singing in his ear, until he nodded off against her shoulder.

She always used to say that her mother had sung that song to her, so now she sang it to him and that one day, he could sing it to his child.

Even then, he’d never really thought that he’d end up with a kid to go with the lullaby.

As if on cue, Peter let out a deep breath and turned his face into his mentor’s neck. Tony sang the end of the song quietly, gradually letting his voice fall into a whisper as he massaged his fingers against the kid’s scalp.

“Ognuno ha il suo bambino, ognuno ha la sua mamma,” he dropped his voice down to a near whisper, cupping the back of Peter’s head and closing his eyes, “e tutti fanno la nanna.”

For a minute, he just listened to the steady  _whish, whoosh_  of Peter’s breathing. Focused on the weight of his head on his collarbone. Centered himself around the borderline uncomfortable warmth that the kid was pressing into his chest.

An echo of a memory, replayed and rewinded a million times, flickered through his head.

His mother, settling him into bed with Jarvis’ help. Dropping a kiss to his forehead, swiping bangs from his closed eyes. Murmuring soft words, words that had never left him. Words he would remember until he couldn’t remember anything else at all.

Before he could really think about it, he found himself echoing them back to Peter.

“Sogni d'oro, piccolo.” He shuffled the kid more firmly against his chest, fierce fondness threatening to collapse his ribs.  _This is my kid, mom. I was yours, and this one’s mine._  “Ti voglio bene.”

A sleepy smile slid across Peter’s face, and he mumbled his words into Tony’s collarbone, half-asleep. “Anch’io ti voglio bene.”

He froze, hand pausing on the crown of Peter’s hair, a few curls still ruffled up between his fingers. Shock settled into the cracks. Had the kid really just done what he thought he’d just done? 

“Uh, Peter?”

“Mhm?”

He swallowed, hesitant. “Do you speak Italian?”

“A little.” Peter’s hand tightened it’s hold on the fabric just above Tony’s heart.

“How…?”

“My Aunt ‘s Italian, Mis’er Stark.”

“Oh.”

“‘S okay.” Heavy eyelids blinked open, and Peter stared up at him with pure adoration on his face. “I liked your lullaby.”

For a brief moment, Tony let his head fall forward and a heavy breath thread through his lungs. Then, he re-found Peter’s gaze and re-instated his hand’s motions through his hair.

“I’m glad.” He let a nostalgic smile pull at his lips. “My mom used to sing it to me.” He paused, brushing the pad of his thumb over the kid’s temple. “She would’ve loved you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He dropped his head back back and closed his eyes. “Now go to sleep so _I_ can go to sleep, kiddo.”

“M’kay.” The teenager closed his eyes with a smile still curled around his face, voice playful. “Will you sing to me again?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Don’t be greedy. I thought you were already asleep.”

“Wasn’t.”

“I gathered that.”

“Please?”

He scratched at a specific section of Peter’s curls until the kid let out a muffled breath of satisfaction. “You can’t always get what you want, y’know.”

He ended up murmuring the song again, anyway.


	14. On A Razor [Scooter] Edge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter finds his old Razor scooter, and Tony decides to right some childhood wrongs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for cryptidsnail who left the prompt: "So like, Peter having a Razor scooter and then Tony wanting to be a part of the fun and getting one too."

“Aw.” Tony held up a pair of Iron Man pajamas, grinning as widely as if he’d found a rare treasure. “Cute, kid.”

“ _Hey_.” Peter blushed, snatching them away from his mentor and carefully storing them in the box they’d dedicated for things to keep. “Don’t mock me.”

“Don’t worry, Pete. I’d  _never_  mock my biggest fan.”

They were standing in the Parker’s small storage compartment on the outskirts of the city, going through years worth of items that had piled up. Neither May nor Peter had been in it since Ben died, but now the facility was closing, which meant that they had to go through  _everything._

Which meant that they had to sort through dozens of bins weighed down with memories, marked by pieces of duct tape bearing Ben’s messy scrawl.

Peter had dreaded it, and the fact that he could see May dreading it too made him dread it even more.

A never-ending cycle of dread and repeat.

That was, until Tony broke it by offering to help.

Peter had nearly cried with relief when he’d offered that he and Peter could go through the items together. 

“You’ve got enough to worry about, May.” His mentor had offered with a charming grin. “The kid and I can handle it. It’ll be a fun boy’s activity. You’d like that, right Pete?”

And so far, he  _had_  liked it. They’d eaten greasy fast food while leaning against the outside of the storage shed, summer breeze tugging at their clothes. They’d taken a few breaks to play Uno on a stack of rib-height boxes. Tony had even brought a speaker, and they’d played loud 80s music while shifting through piles and piles of anything from school trophies to dishtowels.

Peter had dreaded these excursions at first. Had dreaded the concept of stumbling across thoughts he didn’t want to think. 

Now, though, he loved the trips. Loved the hours of comfortable banter that they threw lazily around the shed. Loved the sunshine, the music, the comfortable silence.

He could face the boxes crammed with ghosts, so long as Tony was standing at his side.

As if sensing the solemn direction of his thoughts, the man he’d just been thinking about poked him in the side with a yardstick. “Why do you have, uh,” he held up three more, a look of indignation on his face, “ _four_  yardsticks? Who needs  _four_  yardsticks?”

Peter laughed. “I think Ben got them free when an old Home Depot shut down.”

“That still doesn’t excuse it.” His mentor shifted a box, peeking into it. His face instantly lit up into a grin. “Jackpot.”

“What?” Peter’s head snapped up, suddenly on high alert. “What did you find?”

“Nothing.”

“Mister  _Stark_.” He moved to yank the box away, but Tony pulled it back, grin only growing.

“Oh, kiddo. You were  _so_  cute with that bowl cut.” He tugged out a photo and held it up. “Ever thought of going back to that style?”

“Oh no. Is that a box of…?”

“Yep. Embarrassing childhood photos.” He shifted through a few more stacks, face softening from mischief to fondness. “You had braces?  _And_ glasses? Oh my god, you were  _adorable._ ”

“I’m actually begging you to stop.”

Tony continued as if Peter had never spoken. “There are tapes in here, too. This is the best day of my life.” He selected one, and glanced at the label. “ _Peter B. Parker. End of Year Performance. 2005._ ”

“I’ll do anything. I’ll wash one of your cars. I’ll play sick and get you out of one of those board meetings you hate. I’ll-”

“ _Peter B. Parker. First Soccer Tournament. 2006._ ” Somehow, his mentor’s smile got even bigger. “ _Peter B. Parker. Halloween: Iron Man. 2007._ ”

“Mister  _Staaaark_.” He dragged out his mentor’s last name petulantly. “Please.”

Tony relented, setting the box aside. “I’ll spare you for now, kiddo. But don’t think we aren’t watching those later.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

He tossed a stuffed rabbit in his direction. “Yes, I do.”

Tony threw an old, peeling soccer ball back. “ _No_ , you don’t.”

“Yes, I-”

He stopped dead when he saw what Tony had just pulled out from where it had been wedged between a stack of bins and an old Science Fair poster board.

His mentor grinned. “A Razor scooter, huh? Wow, Pete. You never told me you were a cool kid.”

“Oh my god!” Peter lunged for the scooter, childlike excitement jumping in his chest. “I wondered where that went! Uncle Ben got it for me at a Police Auction.”

Tony smiled gently, understanding the weight of the reference as he passed the old toy over. “Wanna keep it, then?” He winked. “Maybe Spider-Man can re-brand himself as a scooter riding viglante. Leave the webslinging in the past. Now _this_  is how you get around in style.”

Peter giggled, using the few feet of empty space around his feet to coast for a second. “It is pretty cool. More people should use them.”

“They should.” Tony crossed his arms, expression leaking with a kind of parental indulgence. “Know any tricks?”

His face fell a little as he pondered the question. “No. I-I never really rode it.”

“Why not?”

“Well, the best part was supposed to be scootering around with your friends, y’know?” Peter shrugged, trying to conceal the childish pang of rejection. “I didn’t, well,  _have_  friends. Not really.”

Tony frowned, hand clenching like he wanted to reach for Peter but had stopped the motion before it could begin. “What about Ned?”

“I didn’t meet Ned until Middle School, Mister Stark.”

“Well,” Tony said, taking the scooter from his hands and setting it beside the box of photos and tapes, “we’ll have to fix that, won’t we?”

\--

A text popped up on Peter’s lockscreen early the next day.

TS: Meet me in the lab at 3:30. It’s important.

That afternoon, he’d rushed to the Tower in a flurry of excitement, possibilities jumping around in his head like heated popcorn kernels. Was it a mission? A new project with one of the suits?

The first thing he noticed when he ran into the lab was that it was empty.

Like, completely empty.

All the work tables had been taken  _somewhere_. The only evidence of the old layout was the beaten up couch, still pressed in the corner of the room.

And sitting on the couch was Tony Stark himself, a lazy grin on his face as he watched Peter’s bemusement.

“Uh, Mister Stark?”

“Yes, Mister Parker?”

He took a few steps in his mentor’s direction, eyes still sweeping around the barren room. He hadn’t realized how  _big_  the space was before, with all the clutter. “What, uh, what did you do to your lab?”

Tony stood, then, and pulled two Razor scooters out from behind the couch. A brand new one, and Peter’s old one. “I made us a makeshift scooter arena.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation.  _Tony Stark_ , on a Razor scooter? “You can’t be serious.”

“I never learned how to ride one either, Pete.” He shoved the worn handles into Peter’s hands. “So, we’ll learn together.”

“It’s not  _hard_ , Mister Stark.” He pushed off, and glided a few feet before stopping. “You just do it.”

Tony followed, purposefully bumping into Peter but snapping a protective arm out to steady him when he wobbled. “Yeah? Wanna race, then?”

_I can’t believe that this is my life._

Despite the thought, his face lit up with a playful grin. “Oh, you’re on.”

\--

They ended up splayed out on the couch, sweaty and tired but still smiling like little kids. Peter’s hair was curling in a way that would have made him self-conscious just a year ago. Now, however, he just basked in the looks of obvious affection that Tony was shooting his way.

Tony threw a lazy arm over his shoulders. “Have fun, Pete?”

“Yeah.” He rolled his head so that he was looking up at his mentor’s face. “Thank you.”

A pause. Then, a voice filled with something quiet yet genuine. “You’re welcome, kid.”

They sat in a silence for a while, happy to just breathe and exist and be contented by each other’s presence.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Peter leaned forward and riffled around in his pockets before pulling out a folded piece of paper. “This is for you.”

“Oh?” Tony took it from his hand without a second thought. “You got me a present?”

“I didn’t really  _get_  it, exactly.” He shifted awkwardly as the man unfolded the paper. “You can throw it out, if you want.”

He studied the drawing even as Tony did. The childish lines, scrawled out in crayon. Iron Man, flying over a shoddy New York skyline. The message, letters big and blocky in the way only children could accomplish.

_My favorite superhero is Iron Man. He is the best and bravest superhero. I love him._

_Peter Parker_

His mentor blinked a few times, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Then, he tugged the teenager back into his side, ruffling his sweat-damp hair in the process.

“Throw it out?” His gaze flickered between the smeared crayon and Peter’s hopeful eyes. “There’s gotta be laws about defacing pieces of classic art, kid. And do I look like I’d survive in jail?”


	15. I Set This One In Friendly's And I Won't Apologize For It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Rhodey take Peter to Friendly's. What else do you want from me? It's fluff, yo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for fangirling-in-general-idk who left the prompt: "Tony knowing Peter's order (coffee, ice cream, whatever) without having to ask..."

Peter really, really loved Friendly’s.

Like, _really_  loved it.

Tony didn’t really know why, exactly. It wasn’t like he saw anything exceptional about a chain restaurant selling sub-par diner food. And yet, the kid’s face always lit up whenever they drove past one.

And that’s how Tony Stark found himself frequenting nearly every single Friendly’s on the drive from Midtown to the Tower.

It was their thing, a mode of unspoken communication. Peter would slip into his car, radiating the brand of exhaustion that only stems from some shitty high school drama, and Tony would wordlessly pull into the closest Friendly’s.

The kid was give him a tentative smile, and by the end of the meal, he’d be motor-mouthing his way through some random story. He couldn’t really tell if it was the food, or the atmosphere, or, and this was an option that he only dared to consider after Pepper pointed it out, Tony’s presence in and of itself.

He couldn’t help the hope that it was the latter. That the kid just enjoyed spending time with him.

But either way, Friendly’s belonged to Tony and Peter. It was their turf. A fail-safe place where Peter felt relaxed.

So when Rhodey practically demanded to meet the kid, Tony knew exactly where to take them.

“You can help me pick him up from school tomorrow.” Tony offered, pulling out his phone. “Then we can get some early dinner. Kid’s always half-starved by the last bell. They don’t feed him enough for lunch.”

“Weird that you know that, but sure.”

“Oi.” He shot a glare at the other man. “Do you wanna meet the kid or not?”

“Oh, I wanna meet the kid.” Rhodey smiled at him in a way that made his next words seem a lot less sincere. “I’ll be good. I promise.”

“ _Sure_  you do.”

He opened Peter’s messages and shot him a quick text. Kid deserved a fair warning, after all.

TS: Mind having an after school snack with Rhodey tomorrow? He’s dying to meet you.

It took the teenager all of five seconds to reply.

_Kids these days._

PP: mr. rhodes??? yes!!! yes yes yes!!! !!!

God, he really hoped he wouldn’t regret this.

\--

Peter slid into the back of the Audi with a shaky smile on his face. Tony gave him what he hoped was a calming glance before pulling out of the pick-up line and onto the road.

“Hey, Pete.”

Rhodey blinked at the nickname, then added his own greeting. “It’s nice to meet you, Peter.”

“H-Hi Mister Rhodes, Sir. I, uh, I’m, well I’m Peter. But you… already knew that cause you said my name, so…”

The Colonel chuckled, glancing at Tony. “Do you really scare the kid that much?”

“He doesn’t scare me!” Peter blushed at his outburst, shyly dropping his eyes to his knees. “I-I mean, I, uh, I just…”

“He stutters when he’s nervous.” Tony switched lanes and glanced at Peter fondly in the rear-view mirror. “He’ll get over it in a second, don’t worry.”

Peter blinked. “I-I don’t, I don’t  _stutter_ , Mister Stark.”

“Sure ya don’t, kiddo.” He took note of how red the poor kid’s face was and sighed. “Take a breath. You’re alright. I promise that Rhodey’s entirely un-threatening.”

“I’m not  _nervous_.”

_Teenagers: the most stubborn brand of humans on the planet._

“Mhm.”

“I’m  _not._ ”

“I heard you the first time.”

Rhodey intercepted the conversation with a strange look in his eyes. Tony tried not to dwell on it. “So, Peter, got any plans after high school?”

_Smooth one, Rhodes._

The kid blinked. “I mean, uh, college? Engineering. P-Probably something biochemical. B-But Mister Stark thinks I should do electrical.”

“That’s because  _he_  did electrical.” Rhodey nudged his friend’s elbow. “He’s biased.”

“Oi,” Tony shot back, “don’t tell me you wouldn’t be trying to recruit him for the military if you’d seen him in action. Kid’s brilliant.”

Peter flushed again. “Mister  _Stark_.”

“Don’t ‘Mister Stark’ me. It’s true.”

Rhodey twisted in his seat as best he could, braces whirring. Tony caught him winking at Peter out of the corner of his eye. “So tell me, kid, ever thought about serving your country?”

“ _No_.” He didn’t mean for his voice to come out so firm, but the concept of Peter in an active war zone made his heart swoop down to his feet. “Hands off, Rhodey. Get your impressionable youth somewhere else.”

“Oh I’m sorry, Tones,” his best friend stared directly at him, a contemplative look on his face, “didn’t mean to rob your nursery.”

 _Oh, yeah,_  Tony thought, I’m  _definitely going to regret this._

_\--_

Peter’s face lit up when they pulled up by one of their usual haunts. As soon as they were out of the car, Rhodey dropped back to Tony and nudged him in the side.

“Friendly’s?” Thankfully, the Colonel saw Peter’s excitement and had the good grace to whisper. “Really?”

“He loves them.” He shot him a look. “Don’t ruin it.”

A tiny smile tugged at the corner of Rhodey’s lips as Peter practically skipped through the doors. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Their waitress was a friendly older lady who seemed to have no idea who Tony was. She led them to their table, and Tony pushed Peter into the booth first, eyeing the closest exits silently.

He always put Peter farthest from the door, in whichever spot had the most immediate cover. And today, since Rhodey was here, he could use  _himself_ as a human shield.

He’d be between Peter and anything dangerous. Good. That’s exactly how he wanted it to be.

They ordered their drinks and sat quietly for a second. Rhodey seemed to be silently contemplating him and Peter, much to the kid’s obliviousness.

Tony, meanwhile, watched the kid fidget for all of three minutes before sighing heavily and sliding out of the booth.

“Go on, kid.”

Peter just looked at him. “What?”

“Don’t act like I can’t tell you need to pee, bud. So _go_.”

Tony set an internal reminder to let the kid do something very  _un_ stressful when they got back to the Tower. He could practically taste his anxiety. “I-I’m good, Mister, uh, Mister Stark.”

“ _Go_ , Pete.”

The kid relented, awkwardly shuffling away while running a nervous hand through his hair.

Rhodey had half-opened his mouth to speak when the waitress returned, setting their drinks down and addressing them with a too-bright smile.

“Are you ready to order?”

Rhodey glanced at Peter’s empty seat. “Actually, I think we’ll need-”

Tony, however, was already gathering up their menus from the suspiciously sticky table. “We’re ready.”

The Colonel raised an eyebrow at him, but didn’t protest.

The waitress pulled out her pen and flipped her order pad to a fresh page. “Would you like any starters?”

“The mini mozzarella sticks, please.” Tony smothered a stupid smile at the memory of Peter stacking them into a small tower.

“And what else can I get you?”

“I’ll get the Reuben.” He gestured to the empty spot beside him. “The kid’ll have chicken tenders with fries, and a grilled cheese.”

The waitress laughed a little. “Big appetite, huh?”

Tony shot her a charismatic smile. “Oh, you’ve got _no_  idea.”

She straightened, a wave of motherliness swooping over her face. “Kid’s are like that, huh? But we love ‘em anyway.”

He bit his lip briefly before shrugging, passing his and Peter’s menus into her outstretched hand. “Sure do.”

She gave him another gentle smile before redirecting her attention to Rhodey. “And for you, Sir?”

He seemed to flail for a minute, still blindsided by Tony’s easy agreement. Then, he shook his head and let out a disbelieving laugh. “I’ll, uh, I’ll just have the All-American Burger.”

“Lovely.” She flipped her pad shut. “It’ll be out shortly. Oh,” she shot Tony a wink, “and be sure to flag me down again when your youngster demands his ice cream.”

Tony winked back, enjoying the way it seemed to further his best friend’s slow decent into madness. “I will.”

As soon as she was out of earshot, Rhodey fixed him with a serious stare. “Holy  _shit_ , Tones. The kid’s, what, thirteen?”

“He’s fifteen. We picked him up from a high school, Rhodes. Get your math straight.”

“Like I know what age kids are in high school these days.” After a moment’s hesitation, the man pressed on. “You shouldn’t, either, by the way.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re Tony Stark.” He rubbed a hand down his face. “So, spill. How long have you known?”

“Known  _what_?”

“About Peter.” Rhodey gestured at the faded backpack sitting by Tony’s feet. “Why didn’t the mother come clean when he was born? Or did she, and have you been hiding it this whole time?”

Suddenly, his best friend’s thought process dawned on him. “He’s not  _mine_ , Rhodey. Jesus. Not biologically, anyway.”

“You know his order, Tony. That waitress just insinuated that he was yours and you didn’t correct her.”

He sighed, already tired by the conversation. “He’s  _not mine_.”

The Colonel didn’t look convinced. “Then what is this?”

“I don’t know how to explain it, alright? It’s just… the kid’s my responsibility.”

“Why in the world would he be-”

“Hey, Mister Stark.”

Tony shot Rhodey a look that clearly conveyed a message of  _shut it_ , and slid out of the booth to let Peter in. “Hey to you too, kiddo. Enjoy yourself?”

The kid scrunched up his face. “That’s gross.”

He laughed, ruffling his hair a bit as they settled back into their seats. “So, tell Rhodey and I about school today. Learn anything groundbreaking?”

“It’s high school, Mister Stark. I can’t think of anything  _less_  groundbreaking than high school.”

“Well, that’s a shame.” He smirked. “Guess I’ll have to teach you something revolutionary in the lab to day, as compensation.”

“Oh, yeah?” Peter gazed up at him with adoring eyes. “What?”

“Dunno.” He forced himself not to shift under the weight of trust he could see on the kid’s face. “I’ll think of it on the spot.”

They were interrupted by their waitress setting down a plate of mozzarella sticks at the center of the table.

“Oh, cool!” Peter popped one into his mouth, then winced when it burned. Tony just rolled his eyes and shoved his lemonade into his hand. “Did you order while I was gone?”

“Yep. Don’t worry. I got you your chicken tenders.”

“Mm.” He smiled brightly as soon as he’d swallowed his mouthful of stringy cheese. “I knew you would.”

He elbowed him in the side, careful to be gentle despite the kid’s super strength. “You want ice cream after?”

Somehow, no matter how much Tony spoiled Peter, every new offer lit up in his eyes like starlight. “Can I?”

He gave Peter a fond smile, the one that he never seemed capable of replicating when the kid was absent, forgetting all about Rhodey’s watchful gaze. “Of course, buddy.”

“Awesome!” Peter broke one of the mozzarella sticks in half. “Are you gonna get some, too?”

If he was being honest, he didn’t really want ice cream. But he also knew that Peter would feel more comfortable asking for it if Tony did too, so ice cream it was. “Duh.”

One glance at Rhodey affirmed that he’d be going through some rigorous questioning later.

But then again, he’d sit through a thousand interrogations if he could make Peter smile like that again.

He blinked at the thought.

_Damn it. I’m in deep, aren’t I?_


	16. Come Running Back To You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony disappears on a mission. Peter thinks he's dead. But this isn't tagged as MCD, so I imagine you can guess what comes next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the anon who left the prompt: "...ive just woken up from a really bad dream, so im in a big mood of just some irondad spider-son hug being glad to have the other alive?"

“Hey there, son.”

Peter barely glanced up at Steve. Once, he might have felt giddy with excitement at the idea of  _Captain America_  actually  _talking to him_. Now, it took everything he had to shove a cursory acknowledgement the man’s way.

Steve sat down beside him, elbows resting casually on his knees. If he was perturbed by Peter’s lack of response, he didn’t show it. “Tony’s come out of some tight situations before. He’ll show up.”

He swallowed, wet frustration filling his eyes, his nose, his throat. “He’s dead.”

“We don’t know that, Peter.”

“He _would’ve come_.” He hated his youth. He hated the fact that no one seemed to take him seriously, not since the mask came off and his baby-face betrayed his age. “If he’d heard the alert, nothing would have stopped him.”

Peter knew he was right. He could feel it somewhere deep inside him, in a place so dusty with disacknowledgement that it creaked with every inspection.

Because Peter’s heart had stopped. His heart had stopped, and Karen had sent a distress signal to Tony. The kind of distress signal that blared and screamed and overrode any other program that F.R.I.D.A.Y. might have been running.

Karen had sent the distress signal, and Tony  _hadn’t come._

That had been three days ago. Three days. Three days without so much as a whisper from his mentor. Three days of camping on the outskirts of the half-destroyed Hydra base. Three days of knowing a truth that the other Avengers seemed incapable of staring in the face.

There was only one force in the universe that would’ve stopped Tony from coming to Peter when he got that alert. Only one.

Steve watched him for a moment, eyes heavy. “We think they captured him, Peter. If we’re right, he  _couldn’t_  have come to you.”

He just shrugged. He’d heard these same arguments a hundred times over. It didn’t change what he knew.

“I guess.”

Steve gave up, nodding at the bowl held loosely in Peter’s hands. “You eat?”

He glanced down at the cold soup. It rippled a little, as if it sensed his scrutiny. “A little.”

He had pushed down about two mouthfuls before they’d come right back up.

“Want me to warm it back up for you?”

“No, thank you.”

May would be proud. Drowning in grief and he still remembered his manners.

A sigh. “Tony’s going to kill me when he comes back and finds out I didn’t make you eat.”

_Tony’s not coming back._  “Yeah, well…”

“Bruce said you need to eat more, too. You  _died_  a few days ago, kid. That kind of thing takes up a lot of calories.”

I died. I died.  _IdiedIdiedIdied._

Peter wondered if Tony was already dead by then, or if he’d lived long enough to get the alert, and something stopped him from actually getting to Peter. He hoped not. He didn’t want Mister Stark to have died thinking Peter went out before him.

His eyes darted towards the night sky, a smattering of pinpricks peeking through a tangle of forest leaves. _I’m okay, Mister Stark. I’m okay._

A crack of a branch to their left had Steve surging to his feet in a split second, placing himself bodily between the hunched teenager and the possible threat.

Peter, on the other hand, didn’t even flinch.

He didn’t care. Something in him must have died along with Tony. Hell, even his spider sense had abandoned him. Feet away from danger, and it was as silent as a windless day.

“Whoa, Rogers. Stand down, will you?” A laugh, stained and tattered with the same misery that had taken up residence in Peter’s own chest. “I don’t need anyone else trying to kill me today.”

Something swelled through him at the familiar snark. His head snapped up. He couldn’t see past Steve’s bulk, but his limbs wouldn’t cooperate when he tried to stand.

_But he didn’t come. He didn’t come. He didn’t come. He didn’t-_

“ _Tony_.” Steve’s voice was just one big current of relief. “Thank  _god_.”

His mentor let out a bitter laugh. “Well, I hope you’ll forgive me if I  _don’t_  thank him.” Something in his voice seemed to break and re-harden. “Not really feeling the gratitude right about now.”

Slowly, Peter clambered to his feet. His shuffling must have reminded Steve of his presence, because the soldier spun around and reached a hand out for him. He shied away from it, feeling strangely aggravated.

He took a step to the side, and stared.

Tony stood just a handful of footsteps away, suit missing and the compression clothes he usually wore under the armor in tatters.

But he was  _alive._

He was alive, and Peter’s spider sense wasn’t broken.

It hadn’t gone off because  _there had never been any danger in the first place._

“Peter?” Tony’s entire demeanor seemed to wobble. “ _Peter_.”

“M-Mister Stark?”

Suddenly, strong arms were jerking him close. Tony’s chin rested on the top of his head, a heavy presence and seemed to run all the way through his body and down to the soles of his feet. For the first time in three days, he felt anchored in place. Secure, steadied,  _safe_.

“ _Kid_.” One of Tony’s hands palmed roughly against the back of his neck, as if his mentor was testing that the teenager was solid. “ _Fuck_ , kid. I thought you were dead. The suit lit up and said your fucking  _heart stopped_. I tried to get to you, but they knocked me out of the sky before I could make it two meters. Next thing I know, my armor’s gone and I’m locked in a shitty cell in some underground bunker. They-They told me they killed you. Showed me footage and everything.”

Peter buried his face into his neck, digging his nose into the man’s pulse point. He smelled like sweat and smoke and dirt, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care. He’d never cared about anything less in his life.

“I thought  _you_  were dead.” He didn’t know how Tony had managed his version of this speech without crying. Peter made it about two words in before the deep, shuddering sobs overtook his control. “I-I checked K-Karen’s databases after. She said that-that F.R.I.D.A.Y. received her distress signal and that you didn’t come. You would’ve come. I knew you would’ve. I-I thought…”

“Shh. It’s okay. Not dead, buddy. I’m not dead, you’re not dead, nobody’s dead…” Tony tightened his grip all at once. Peter wondered absently if he’d bruise in the morning. “Wait.  _Fuck._  That means they weren’t lying, then? They didn’t hack Karen? Your heart actually stopped?”

Peter closed his eyes and let Tony take on more of his weight. He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think about anything besides the fact that Tony was alive, Tony was okay, Tony was here. 

“Just for like, a little bit.”

Steve piped up, voice quiet. “It was about 3 minutes. Rhodey restarted it.”

“Of  _course_  it was Rhodey. God, I love that man. I’m going to kiss him. I mean, it wouldn’t be the first time, but this time I’m  _really_  going to mean it…”

For a few shaky breaths, they were all silent. Peter clenched and unclenched his fist in the fabric of his mentor’s shirt. Tony alternated between dragging trembling fingers through the curls at the base of the teenager’s skull and roving his hands over his back and sides in search of injury. Finally, two fingertips found their resting spot against the pulse point on Peter’s neck.

“If your heart pulls any of that bullshit ever again,” Tony’s voice was just a whisper, “we’re going to have words.”

He laughed at the absurdity of the statement. He laughed at the absurdity of their situation.

But most of all, he laughed because  _Tony was alive._

“Sure, Mister Stark.”


	17. His Name? Merlin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Peter watch Merlin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MERLIN SPOILERS AHEAD  
> This was in created in honor of the 10 year anniversary of the show. Without Merlin, none of y'all would've read a single fanfic from me ever.  
> Written for thesingerqueen who left the prompt: "Have you considered TONY AND PETER WATCHING MERLIN??????? All the way from the adorkable beginning to the angsty angsty end??? Bcs I'm betting Tony would have some jokes about Merlin keeping his secret about as well as Peter does."

“What’re we watching, again?”

Peter plopped down beside Tony and tucked himself into the man’s side, a maneuver perfected through countless days of practice. “It’s an old BBC show called Merlin.”

“And why are we watching it?”

“Because MJ told me that if I didn’t, she’d spoil the ending.” Peter blinked up at him innocently. Tony sort of hated that it wasn’t an act. The kid really was that pure. “And because you said we could binge watch whatever I wanted.”

He  _had_  said that, to be fair.

It was Peter’s spring break, and May was out of town. At May’s request, he’d happily volunteered to have the kid over for the week. It wasn’t that they didn’t trust Peter to be alone for that long, exactly…

Okay, actually, yeah. Neither he nor May trusted the kid to be alone for that long.

Could anyone blame them? He was a magnet for trouble. Tony was surprised Peter could walk five steps on the street without someone trying to detach his head from his body.

And so, in the name of what May called his “co-parental service hours,” Tony’s weekend would be spent watching a cancelled BBC show and living off of microwave popcorn and delivered pizzas.

He guessed that there were definitely worse things to be doing.

“So,” Peter maneuvered through the Netflix interface like it was a second skin. He tried not to be jealous, “give me a rundown. On what kind of journey are we about to embark?”

“It’s a show about Merlin-”

“Holy  _shit_ , I would’ve never guessed…”

“Hey!” Peter laughed, hovering the mouse over the first episode. “It’s like a ‘what if?’ story. What if Merlin and Arthur were the same age, and Merlin was Arthur’s servant instead of this wise old wizard? It’s supposed to be really good.”

_I can’t wait._  “Alright, kid. Let’s have at it.”

Peter hit play and tossed the remote onto the coffee table, leaning his head against the top of Tony’s chest as the first scene faded into view.

_“No young man, no matter how great, can know his destiny. He cannot glimpse his part in the great story that is about to unfold. Like everyone, he must live and learn. And so it will be for the young warlock arriving at the gates of Camelot. A boy that will, in time, father the legend. His name: Merlin.”_

And, damn it, Tony could already feel himself drawing the parallels between the gangly kid on the screen and the gangly kid curled up next to him. 

Peter had no idea, did he? He couldn’t see the path that Tony saw winding further every day.

He had no idea that he was going to change the world.

He watched the Evil King character execute some random sorcerer with a weird taste in his mouth.

It felt too real, too present. Too close to what Tony imaged Ross would do to Peter if he ever got his hands on him…

He shook the thoughts away.  _No._  This was supposed to be fun. They were binge watching a lighthearted show over the kid’s spring break. The occasion did  _not_ lend itself to thoughts like that.

He decided that he liked Gaius from the old physician’s very first scene. He voiced that thought to Peter, quietly, during a lull in the dialogue.

“Why?”

Tony shrugged. “He’s gonna suffer.”

Peter dropped his head back, craning his neck painfully, to stare up at his mentor with wide eyes. “He is?”

He chuckled, letting the sound release some of the tension from Peter’s gaze. “Of course he is. His job is to keep the reckless kid alive. It’s not easy, let me tell you.”

Peter hit Tony with a pillow, and the episode rolled on.

_“Tell me, Merlin, do you know how to walk on your knees?”_

A flare of protectiveness for his Peter-stand in flared in Tony’s chest. 

He shifted Peter a little closer, as if protecting  _his_  kid would protect the one on the screen as well. 

He decided all at once that he didn’t like Arthur. He didn’t like him even a _little bit._

“He’s an asshole.” 

Peter seemed unperturbed. He played with the cuff of Tony’s shirt lazily, eyes tracking the scene. “People can change, Mister Stark. You did, didn’t you?” The kid smiled his special, unburdened smile. “Give him a chance.”

It occurred to him that maybe, just maybe, he hated Arthur because the prince reminded him of an outdated version of himself.

Young, brazen, self-centered,  _cruel_. Blind to the ways his actions could hurt and maim and kill. Following doggedly in the over-sized footsteps his father left. Driven by false arrogance, one-size-fits-all ideals, and overwhelming bitterness on his tongue.

He sighed. “Sure, kid. I’ll give Prince Asshole a chance.”

As it turned out, his forced sympathy for Arthur his deadbeat dad was a lot harder to hold onto than he thought it might be.

This Merlin character  _really_  knew how to look like a kicked puppy.

_“I’m not a monster, am I?”_

_“Don’t ever think that.”_

Tony tightened his grip around Peter’s back at the same moment the teenager shifted to cling tighter.

He wanted to tell the kid that Gaius was right, and that Prince Asshole was wrong. He wanted to tell him that Merlin wasn’t a monster. That nobody could help who they were, and that it wasn’t anything to be ashamed of.

He wanted to tell Peter that  _he_  wasn’t a monster, a freak, a mistake. He wanted to make sure he knew that Tony would tear down anyone who said otherwise.

Instead, he just smoothed a hand through Peter’s bangs and hoped he could feel it through the solidity of their half-embrace.

_“If you can’t tell me, no one can.”_

\--

The first season fell away along with the daylight.

He watched Merlin, who he had to repetitively remind himself was  _not Peter_ , stumble through a million different mistakes. He watched him drink some poison (stupid), harbor some fugitive child right under the Evil King’s nose (stupid), and offer up his life in exchange for Prince Asshole’s (stupidstupid _stupid_ ).

It felt like every turn the character took made him want to smash his head into the nearest wall. Repetitively.

(On the other hand, Prince Asshole was slowly, and painfully, growing on him. Not that he was ready to admit that to Peter, of course.)

The final episode of the season faded into credits, and Tony wordlessly flicked off the TV.

“ _Hey_.” The kid’s protest might have held more weight if his eyes weren’t closed and the words weren’t soft with sleepiness. “One more.”

Tony made sure to keep his voice low and soothing, carding his fingers through the kid’s mess of curls. “You won’t even concentrate on it.”

“Will too.”

“Oh?” He turned the screen back on, slyly lowering the volume and hitting play on the next episode. “Okay then, buddy. Whatever you say.”

Peter’s breaths had evened out before the opening sequence could finish.

That night, Tony decided that sleeping on the couch was  _way_  underrated.

There wasn’t even a question of what they’d be doing the next morning. He sent Peter wordlessly to shower, ordered a couple of pizzas, and hit play the moment that the kid was re-situated on the couch, wet curls soaking into the front of his t-shirt.

At some point in the middle of the season, during an episode about a witchfinder, he let out an involuntary groan.

It was almost like this kid didn’t want to keep his magic a secret. At the very least, it seemed like he jumped at nearly every opportunity to reveal himself.

Peter flickered his eyes away from the screen and gave Tony a questioning look. “What?”

He rolled his eyes. “Merlin’s about as good at keeping his secret as you are at keeping yours.”

“That’s not true!” Peter’s glare just made him look younger. Tony nearly laughed at the way his face scrunched up. “Barely anybody knows I’m Spider-Man!”

“I figured it out, kid.”

“You’re  _you_ -”

“Ned.”

“To be fair, I didn’t know he was-”

“MJ.”

“She’s _terrifyingly_  observant-”

“May.”

“She walked in on me!”

“Sure thing, kiddo.” Tony ruffled his hair playfully. “Why don’t you just shout it from the rooftops, huh? Might be a little more efficient, that way.”

Peter blinked, then huffed, physically turning away from Tony and fixing his eyes back on the screen. It was a clear dismissal, despite the fact that didn’t move away from the warmth of his mentor’s side.

The second season’s finale went to credits, and Peter stalled Tony’s hand before he could switch off the TV.

“C’mon, Mister Stark! We could totally watch the next season! It’ll only take, like, a few more hours.”

“Your idea of ‘a few more hours’ is actually about 8 hours, kiddo.”

“And?”

“You need sleep.”

“We’ve stayed up later in the lab.”

“On  _accident_.”

“So?”

He tried his best to mimic May’s  _I am an adult and you will listen to me_  voice. “No, Peter.”

He kid blinked up at him imploringly. “ _Please._ ” 

(The third season was good.)

\--

They watched the two part series finale on Tuesday morning. 

And, frankly, Tony wasn’t sure what he’d expected. But it sure as hell wasn’t… that.

_“Just, just, just… just hold me. Please.”_

Peter curled himself around Tony with a little whine. He rubbed the kid’s back comfortingly, gaze still transfixed on the screen. “ _No._ He’s not supposed to  _die_ , Mister Stark. He’s supposed to  _live_. He’s-He’s the Once and Future King. What about Albion? What about  _Merlin_?”

He wondered if he could sue the BBC for making his kid cry.

_“There’s something I want to say…”_

_“You’re not going to say goodbye.”_

_“No. Merlin. Everything you’ve done. I know now. For me, for Camelot. For the kingdom you helped me build…”_

_“You’d have done it without me.”_

_“Maybe. I want to say… something I’ve never said to you before. Thank you.”_

He watched the character die with a weird feeling in his chest.

He’d never been one for sentiment in general, and certainly not for fictional characters. But… something about Merlin and Arthur had made him think of Peter and himself.

Peter’s voice was small. “Merlin would’ve trade places with him.”

Tony’s answer came so quickly that it surprised him. “Arthur would never want him to.”

_You ever try trading places with me, kid, and I’ll kill you my damn self._

“But what’s the point?” There were undercurrents to Peter’s tone that told Tony they weren’t just talking about the show anymore. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one drawing parallels. “If I were Merlin, I’d rather die than live without Arthur.”

He tried not to hear the implicit  _I’d rather die than live without you_  in the kid’s words.

“Someone always dies first, kiddo. That’s just life.”

Peter buried his face into Tony’s shirt, sniffling a little. “Yeah, well, I don’t like it.”

He set a gentle hand on the back of his head, shielding him from the screen, the daylight, the world.

“I don’t like this ending, either.”

Tony took a deep breath, focusing on the way his ribs pressed into Peter’s at the apex. “If it makes you feel any better, kiddo, neither do I.”

He’d pondered his death a lot. Once, he’d thought towards it with a perverted sense of lust. 

But Pepper, Rhodey,  _Peter_  had changed that. Now, he just felt a peaceful acceptance. He wouldn’t go rushing to his grave but, when the time came, he couldn’t see himself reeling against it, either.

But for the first time, he thought about  _Peter._

If everything went the way it naturally should, he would die long before the kid.

He’d get to die, and Peter would have to keep living.

His parents’ deaths still left a hollow ache in his chest. He missed his mother with every single breath.

Is that what he’d be doing to Peter, when he died? Leaving him damaged irreparably? Dooming him to a life of sewing up his tattered grief?

He swallowed, hard, and shook his head.

Peter would be okay, because he’d prepare Peter. He’d give him everything he needed to do more than just survive once he and May were both gone.

He was going to make sure Peter  _thrived._

And he’d do everything he could not to leave the kid like Arthur left Merlin, or like his mother left him. Not violently, not suddenly, not in the heart of some blood-stained tragedy.

He’d linger, if he could. He’d grow old (something he used to shudder at the thought of). He’d give the kid’s kids too much sugar and poke him with his cane and complain about the technology Peter would incorporate into his newest invention to shroud the pride.

As he watched the final credits role over the dark screen, Tony Stark decided that he hated tragedies.

He also decided that he wouldn’t let his own life become one.


	18. Here Comes Trouble, Make It Double

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For James Rhodes, one genius that lacked the basic skills of self-care was quite enough, thank you. Now, he's got two.  
> God help him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the anon who left the prompt: "Okay but imagine: peter walking into the compound looking like a full ass mess and Rhodey runs into him and is just like “hey?? Kid are you okay??” And peter ofc goes into a rant of how ‘duh of corse he just hasn’t slept in a day or two or three but like who needs sleep right?’ And he keeps going but Rhodey isn’t listening any more because all he’s thinking is that there’s two of them..."

Rhodey looked at Peter, and all he saw was Tony.

That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. He knew that some people would think it was. In Peter, he saw Tony’s brilliance, his ingenuity. The two bartered ideas back and forth like currency, slowly ramping up every concept until they were so far above Rhodey’s head that he quit even attempting to follow the conversation. He’d just sit back, relax, and enjoy the way Tony’s armor fell away whenever Peter was around.

It wasn’t just the intelligence, either. Peter had Tony’s kindness, too. It just wasn’t so shielded. They both had this visceral and undying determination to protect the people they loved, even at the cost of themselves.

The list of similarities could go on and on, from personality (brave to the last gasp, almost comically reckless, brutally witty) to appearance (he swore their curls literally  _matched_  some days). Most of it was good. Some of it… wasn’t.

Right now, he was discovering one of the things that was most definitely a negative.

Tony had never known when to stop. As it turns out, neither does Peter.

The kid stumbled into the Compound looking like he’d been hit by a bus. Dark circles rested under his eyes, heavy and far too old for a kid of just sixteen. His t-shirt was on backwards and his shoes were untied. His gaze held that same pre-occupied glaze he’d seen on Tony’s face over and over again. The look of a genius too immersed in…  _something_  to even comprehend the most obvious details of the world around them.

_Oh good_ , he thought,  _now there’s two of them._

Rhodey had only left Tony’s lab a couple of minutes ago, and he hadn’t looked much better than his protégé. FRIDAY had informed him that the man had been awake for over  _72 hours_. Of course, he’d ignored all of Rhodey’s attempts to coax him away from his work and into bed.

Typical.

Maybe Peter would be easier to wrangle?

“Kid, you look terrible.”

Peter blinked as if he’d just noticed Rhodey’s presence. Honestly, that was probably the truth. “Oh. Hi, Colonel Rhodes. I, uh, I’m sorry. What’d you say?”

“Hi, Peter. I said you look terrible.”

“Oh.” Another blink. He vaguely wondered if the kid was going to drop right then and there. “I, uh, I’m good. Totally fine. Don’t worry.”

“Mhm. When’s the last time you slept?”

“Couple days.”

Wow. So Peter wasn’t only a  _much_  worse liar than Tony, he also didn’t even _try_ to conceal the extent of his recklessness. He could work with that. “ _Peter._  You need to sleep. Don’t follow Tony’s example.”

“I’m good. I’m Spider-Man. Means I can stay up longer than other people.”

“Yeah? Have you scientifically proven that?”

It took Peter a good few moments to process the question. It always amused Rhodey, albeit in a bitter sort of way, how sleep deprivation rendered even someone as bright as Tony dull and uncoordinated. It was only during Tony’s moments of pure exhaustion when Rhodey could outstrip him intellectually. If those occasions weren’t so concerning, he might actually enjoy them. 

“I, uh, I’m working on it.”

“On proving it?”

“Uh huh.”

“Well,” he gestured casually at the teenager, “looks like it’s going well.”

“Oh, thanks.” Did the kid actually think that was a compliment? “I, uh, ‘m gonna go to Tony now. I’ll see you later, Mister Rhodey.”

He watched Peter retreat, silently plotting a way to get both him  _and_  Tony to actually take care of themselves.

He had his work cut out for him, didn’t he?

–

He pushed his plan into action early the next morning.

It was a simple plan, really, but that’s why it was perfect. Tony and Peter were too smart to be fooled by anything elaborate. But something straightforward? Something that played directly into their weak points? Something that was so based on truth that you could barely even call it a trick?

_That_  might work.

He rolled into Tony’s lab around 8:00 am. The man was feverishly working on some piece of the Iron Man suit. Rhodey knew he hadn’t slept.

“Hey, Tones.”

The genius jumped. He glanced over his shoulder and glared. “Jesus, Rhodey. You trying to give me a heart attack?” He looked to the ceiling. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., why didn’t you warn me he was here?”

“I did, Boss.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I did. The notification is saved in my logs.”

“Then you must’ve saved it but not alerted me.”

“I did, but you did not respond.”

“Because you never said it.”

Rhodey groaned, cutting off the argument with a sharp, “ _Tony_.”

“Yes, honey bear?”

He forced himself not to react to the nickname. “I’m worried about Peter.”

Tony’s attention zeroed in on him all at once. “What? Why?”

“Did you look at him yesterday?”

The man scoffed. “Of course I did. He… he came in here. And he worked on… something.”

“Mhm. But did you  _look_ at him?”

Tony floundered for a moment before conceding. Something told Rhodey that he would’ve fought a lot harder if he didn’t think Peter’s well-being was at risk.

_Perfect._

“Not really, no.”

“He looks dead on his feet. I talked to him, and he said he was stressed. Super overwhelmed by school and Spider-Man and everything. Hasn’t slept in a few days.”

Tony’s fists clenched. “That damn kid, I told him to stop patrolling if it got to be too much. He needs-”

“He needs a break. To get away from everything. It’s Friday tomorrow, and he’s got Monday off because of some teacher training bullshit. Why don’t we take him away? Rent a cabin somewhere quiet. Leave the suits and the tech and everything else behind. He can just… be a kid for a bit. Get some sleep. It’d be good for him, don’t you think?”

_Agree. C’mon, Tones. Agree._

He could see his friend’s inner battle: the drive to create versus the drive to protect.

His shoulders slumped. He pushed his tools away. Protection wins.

“Alright. You’re right. It’s a good idea. The kid won’t relax unless we force him. He’s too much like me.” Rhodey had to push down a laugh at the irony. “I’ll let his aunt know, and we’ll kidnap him after school if she gives it the go-ahead.”

“Sounds good to me.”  _Step one: complete._  “Is he coming over today?”

Tony shook his head. He looked a little sullen. “Nah. He’s got Decathlon practice on Thursdays. Gets out at 5:00 and then usually takes the trains home.”

_Fantastic._

“Sorry, Tones. Try not to miss him too much.”

“I’m perfectly capable of surviving a day without Peter Parker, thank you very much.”

He snorted.  _Sure you are._

–

He pulled his car up to Peter’s school at 4:50. A few minutes later, a small group of teenagers filed out the front door.

The rolled down his window and called to the one he knew. “Hey, Peter! Over here.”

A couple of the other kids stopped to gape. One spun and rambled excitedly to Peter, who looked baffled.

“C’mon, kid. I don’t have all day.”

Peter had scrambled into the passenger’s seat within a minute of the urging, ever polite.

“H-Hey, Colonel Rhodey. What’re you, uh, what’re you doing here?”

“Wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh.” The kid fidgeted. “Did I, uh, do something wrong?”

“Not at all.” Rhodey shot him a calming smile. “It’s about Tony, actually. Can I tell you something in confidence?”

“Mister Stark? Y-Yeah. Of course.” Peter straightened his spine, the picture of devoted attention. “You can count on me, sir.”

He smothered a laugh at the kid’s enthusiasm. He could really see why Tony adored him. “I’ve been worried about him. He’s overworking himself.”

“He is?”

He nodded. “He needs rest. And I’ve known Tony long enough to know that he won’t come quietly. So, you and I are going to trick him.”

Peter’s brow furrowed. “Trick him?”

“Yep.” He flicked on his indicator and pulled out into traffic. “Tomorrow, Tony’s going to accost you and say he’s dragging you away on a retreat to force you to relax. I suggested it.”

“I’m fine, Mister Rhodes-”

“Of course you are.”  _No, you’re not._  “But Tony would’ve never agreed to the idea if he knew it was for him. But you?”

Realization dawned on the kid’s face. “You’re convincing him that the whole thing is for me so he goes along with it.”

“Bingo.”

“That’s really smart.”

“Well, I’m not Tony, but I do have my moments.”

“ _I_ think you’re brilliant.”

Something warmed in his chest. “Thanks, kid.”  _Focus._  “I have a job for you during the trip.”

Peter’s face lit up with excitement. “What is it?”

“Distract Tony from anything work-related. You’re burned out, remember? Make him relax with you.” He reached out to give his shoulder a pat. “Think you can do that?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good man.” He didn’t miss the way the kid brightened at the term. “Knew I could count on you.”

_Step two: complete._

–

Peter actually did a phenomenal job of faking surprise when he and Tony pulled up outside his school the next day.

Rhodey also got the pleasure of watching Tony silently fret over how pale and exhausted the kid looked. His friend kept stealing glances at Peter in the rearview mirror, entire body keyed up with concern.

_Now you know what it’s like,_  he thought, a little spiteful,  _to worry constantly that someone’s going to spiral themselves into destruction._

The cabin was nice. It was a short hike away from a waterfall and surrounded by nothing but wilderness for miles. Peter looked genuinely excited by how massive the trees were, pointing out every one that seemed even slightly taller than the last.

(“Wow! That one’s even bigger! Do you see it, Mister Stark?!”

“That I do, Pete.”

“This is so cool!”)

By the time they were settled in, dusk had fallen over the forest. It was a nice night, but Rhodey was still surprised when Tony suggested that they all go sit outside on the screened porch.

His shock must have shown, too, because his friend sent Peter out ahead of them and whispered a hasty explanation.

“I read that fresh air might help him relax. Dunno if it’ll work, but it’s worth a shot.”

Sometimes, Rhodey was still blindsided by how much Tony really, really loved this kid.

“It’s a good idea.”

He could see Tony hiding a smile at the praise. “Thanks. Now go out and entertain the little monster for a minute. I’ll grab some blankets.”

By the time Tony wandered out, Peter was amusing himself with the [cushioned porch swing](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.theporchswingcompany.com%2Flowcountry-swing-beds-the-cooper-river-daybed-swing.html%3Fgclid%3DCj0KCQiA8f_eBRDcARIsAEKwRGeInQZgSCelzO-R7RWxsWly_QPVg_YIhuYG-LahvWvWG3whKolrhiIaAjlWEALw_wcB&t=N2IyMTBkZTY3NWFlMjE5MGE1ZGVjMWE5OGJjMDc4MTYyZDllMzBlOSxDWm0yZVVqUA%3D%3D&b=t%3A4UpMRyA0kfRAmS6Shmnf0Q&p=https%3A%2F%2Flosingmymindtonight.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F179802750010%2Fokay-but-imagine-peter-walking-into-the-compound&m=1). The kid twisted to smile brightly him as the door swung closed.

“Mister Stark! Look how  _cool_  this is! It’s got pillows and everything. It’s… it’s like a bed  _and_  a bench!”

Tony tossed Rhodey a blanket and motioned for the kid to stop swinging so he could sit with him. “It’s pretty cool, huh?”

“Yeah!” Once Tony sunk down beside him, Peter toppled shamelessly into his side, pulling his legs onto the swing. “It’s really nice out, too.”

“It is.” Tony carded a light hand through the kid’s hair, anchoring one leg on the ground to gently rock the bench back and forth. “Can you hear anything interesting with your super-hearing?”

Peter closed his eyes, face twisted in concentration. Tony watched him silently.

“I can the normal stuff, like your heartbeat. And, uh, I can hear the waterfall. I think there’s rabbits under the cabin. Oh, and there’s some deer, uh,” the kid opened his eyes and pointed to their left, “that way.”

“Hm.” Tony sunk back into the cushions, pulling Peter along with him. “Don’t get any ideas about bringing a rabbit home. May’ll kill me.”

The teenager grinned. “Sure thing, Mister Stark.” He met Rhodey’s eyes and mimed a little thumbs up outside of Tony’s view. “Can we go to the waterfall tomorrow?”

“‘Course we can.”

“Will you come with us, Mister Rhodey?”

Tony groaned. “Just call him Rhodey, kid. The ‘mister’ part is very unnecessary.”

“I second that.” He leaned back and tried not to smirk at the way Peter had not-so-subtly arranged himself so that Tony couldn’t escape. The kid was like an octopus. “You don’t need to be so formal, Peter.”

“Sorry, Mister Rhodes.”

“Well, at least it’s not just me.” Tony scratched between the kid’s shoulder blades. “And I’m sure Rhodey’ll join us if you ask nicely enough.”

“Of course I will.”

“Oh, good.” Peter yawned. “That’ll be fun.”

“Mhm.”

The conversation lulled for a while. Rhodey was content to watch his plan unfold. He could _see_ Tony’s body relaxing in time with Peter’s breaths. The kid was nearly asleep when Tony spoke again.

“Hey, Pete?”

“Yeah?”

“Why haven’t you been sleeping?”

“Dunno.”

_Huh_. Rhodey watched Tony watch Peter. _Not part of the plan, but interesting._

“You don’t know?”

“Not really.”

“Yeah. Not really buying that answer. Wanna sell me another?”

Peter sighed, burying his face into Tony’s neck, who just cupped the back of his head lightly. He didn’t stop the rocking motion of the swing. Rhodey smiled a little at the scene. Damn, they were actually pretty cute. He’d never get over seeing Tony so…  _soft._

Patient. Nurturing. _Parental._

“I just get distracted by stuff. I… forget.”

“You forget to sleep?”

“Yeah.”

Tony sighed. “The worst part of that statement is that I can tell you’re not lying.”

“‘M not.”

“Yeah, I know.”

They were quiet again. This time, Peter broke it.

“‘M sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s alright.” He dropped his forehead onto the crown of the kid’s head, shoulders bowed with exhaustion. “We’ll go to the waterfall tomorrow, okay?”

“M’kay.”

Rhodey watched the two carefully. He felt like he’d just missed some secret code. Whatever it was had closed the conversation. Peter’s breath evened out first, but it didn’t take long for Tony to drop off, too. The swing settled into motionlessness.

He waited a full 30 minutes before creeping over to the pair and gently pushing Tony over until he was laying across the bench’s seat with Peter half on top of him.

He was pushing a pillows under his friend’s head when he stirred, arms wrapping more securely around Peter and eyes flickering open. 

“Easy, Tones.” He folded a blanket over Peter’s shoulders. “It’s just me.”

“Rhodey?”

“Yeah, man. I was just settling Peter.”

“He okay?”

“Sure is. Now be a good role model and go back to sleep.”

Tony turned his face into Peter’s hair and, for once in his life, actually listened to his advice.

Go figure.

(Peter would spend the rest of the weekend dragging Tony through a hundred different hikes and activities. Rhodey would spend his time marveling at the way the kid made Tony’s eyes light up.

He hadn’t seen his best friend look that carefree in  _years._

Maybe he could convince Tony to make this a monthly thing.)


	19. Ice Ice Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter gets frozen in carbonite. On the bright side, he's sort of living a fanboy dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one also happens to be a present for parkrstark, as well as the product of my family and I watching the OG Star Wars movies on New Years Eve

Tony had to admit that this Villain of the Week was definitely a step above the others. He’d been prepared for them. Within the first five minutes of fighting, he’d managed to have Tony’s suit disabled and Peter’s powers dampened by some drug he hadn’t even seen the guy manage to inject the kid with.

And now they were both cuffed, a couple of guards leading them down a long industrial corridor of this dude’s evil lair, and Villain thought it was okay to put a hand on his kid’s arm and talk to him like he  _knew_  him.

Yeah, impressed or not, Tony was gonna tear out his fucking throat.

He forced his hatred down. He had to act like everything was okay. For Peter’s sake.

“Tell me, Peter,” Villain’s voice was gentle in a way that made Tony’s skin crawl, “have you ever seen Star Wars?”

Tony snorted. “You  _had_  to ask.”

Peter glanced back at him with a shaky grin. “Uh, y-yeah. Maybe, uh, maybe once or twice.”

_More like a couple hundred, kid. I hear lightsabers powering up in my dreams._

“Oh, good. That will make this process much easier.”

“Are-Are you gonna give me a lightsaber? Cause I’ve always wanted one of those.”

Villain laughed, as if Peter’s joke genuinely amused him. “As compelling as that would be, no.” 

Two guards rushed forward to open a set of wide, metal doors. Inside, there was a mostly empty room with a small pit in the center. 

Tony’s stomach dropped.

Yeah. He’d seen Star Wars, too.

“Han Solo is rather an interesting character, don’t you think? Not much like you, I imagine.”

Peter, despite the fear Tony could see in every inch of his posture, had the presence of mind to be offended at the comment. “I’m  _very_  much like Han Solo, thank you very much.”

Tony snorted. “You’re much more of a Luke, kid.”

“I mean… I guess that’s fine, too.”

Villain ignored their banter and continued to guide Peter closer to the pit. “You see, I’ve been planning your capture for quite a while, Peter. The drugs we’re currently using to dampen your powers are complicated and expensive to synthesize. It became clear very early on that we’d need another method to contain you.”

Tony could see the exact moment Peter let himself recognize the room, the pit, the reason for the Star Wars references. He saw because the kid balked, all at once, and an extra guard leapt in to hold him still.

“Ah, I see you recognize my machine.”

Tony couldn’t remember a time when he’d seen Peter truly afraid. Despite his age, the kid had nerves of steel. Even Rhodey had been impressed by his grit on a number of occasions. Now, though, his voice wavered like a child staring into the face of a nightmare. 

“I-I don’t want-”

“Relax, little spider. I’ve tested it extensively. Granted, the normal human body has proven too delicate to withstand the freezing process. I have hopes, however, that you will survive.”

Peter spun to Tony, eyes wide and pupils blown. “Mister Stark.”

Two words, and every ounce of Tony’s body lit up with protective fire.

“Fuck off, asshole. He’ll cooperate without any of your weird sci-fi bullshit. You’ve got me, remember? Stick a gun to my head and the kid won’t try anything. I swear.”

“I appreciate your suggestion, Stark, but I’m afraid I’ve already considered it. After all, I have very little interest in you. You’re really just here for insurance. However, I can’t risk either of you getting clever on me. One genius will be hard enough to contain. But two? With one of them enhanced? It’s too high of a risk.”

A gun clicked by Tony’s ear. Peter’s face went even whiter, if that was possible.

“Now, Peter,” a platform rose up though the mist until it settled at the top of the pit, “I imagine I can count on your cooperation.”

The kid pulled weakly at his captor’s hold. “Mister Stark?”

_What do I do?_

He swallowed, eyes flickering around the room. The suit was down, Peter’s powers were non-functional. There was a very real gun pressed against his skull.

He couldn’t see a way out. At least, not one that would come in time to stop  _this._

“It’s alright, buddy. You remember Return of the Jedi, right? Remember how that one starts?”

_I’m gonna get you out. I’ll never let anything stop me from getting you out._

Peter was breathing heavy, but his eyes were fixed on Tony’s face. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

He nodded, slow and deliberate. “It’s gonna be okay, Pete. I promise.”

“Y-Yeah. I-I mean, i-it’s okay. Just like Han Solo, right?”

Tony ignored the growing smirk on Villain’s face. Instead, he focused on cracking what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Does that make me Leia?”

“You should be honored, Mister Stark. I-I’ve always wanted to be Carrie Fisher.”

Villain gave Peter a hard shove onto the platform. Tony stumbled forward as much as his guards would allow, adrenaline making his vision blur.

“Hey, kid. Look at me.” He forced himself to ignore the tears threatening to spill out of Peter’s eyes. “I’m right here. Just look at me, okay? Don’t look anywhere else.”

Peter’s cuffed hands jerked out for him as the platform shuddered. “I-I love you.”

He bit his cheek.  _Keep your cool, Stark._  “Hey, I thought that was my line.”

There was something desperate about Peter’s demeanor as the platform started to sink. “Mister  _Stark_.”

_I know, I know. I hear you._ “I love you too, kid.”

“Mister Stark, I’m-”

Peter’s face was engulfed by a swell of smoke and fluid before he could finish.

\--

The clang of Peter’s carbonite prison landing on the metal floor rang in Tony’s ears so loudly that he thought he may never stop hearing the echoes.

“Well, Stark. You’re rather in luck. It seems as though he survived the hibernation process after all.”

Tony couldn’t tear his eyes away from the kid’s face, twisted up in fear and pain and  _god knows_  what else, frozen in the metal.

For some reason, all he could think about was how entranced Peter would be by this whole thing.

“I,” he cleared his throat, gaze still fixed on Peter, “I’m going to kill you.”

Villain laughed. “You can try, Mister Stark.”

“Have  _you_  ever seen Star Wars?” He could feel his lips turning up in a snarl. “There _is_ no try.”

\--

It took Tony three days to rewire the lock in his cell.

It was three days too long.

The thing about Tony Stark was that he was formidable enough when he  _wasn’t_ angry. But when he was  _pissed_? When someone he loved had been threatened?

He was unstoppable.

It took Tony three days to rewire the lock in his cell, but it only took him three minutes to put a bullet through the center of Villain’s forehead.

He never did learn the guy’s name.

Never cared to, either.

The only pitstop he made on his way to Peter was to try the suit, and that turned out to be fruitless. The circuits were fried. He’d have to overhaul the whole damn design. Awesome. Perfect.

Peter’s watch, however, was in perfect condition.

Which meant he had access to Karen.

“Hello? Karen? You with me?”

“Mister Stark?” He smiled at the choice of moniker. Like master, like AI. “Can I assist you?”

“I need to find Peter.”

“There are no live heat signatures in your area.”

“Yeah, I know. They froze him in carbonite. You’ll have to scan for high concentrations of carbon.”

“Carbonite? As in Star Wars?”

Of  _course_  the kid taught Karen about Star Wars. Why would he ever expect anything different?

“Yes, like in Star Wars. Please find him, Karen.”

“Right away, sir.” A moment passed. “I am detecting an unusually dense concentration of carbon two rooms to your left. Down the main hallway.”

“Thank you, Karen.” 

He jogged to the room she indicated, and couldn’t tell if he felt a rush of horror or relief at the sight of Peter, still frozen in his carbonite shell.

It felt like it took him hours to reach his side, but he imagined it was only a handful of seconds.

He ran a shaky hand over the metal covering the kid’s face before pulling himself together on trembling inhale.

“Karen? How do I get him out safely?”

The watch emitted a wave of light. A minute later, the AI responded.

“There is a panel on the side, similar to the one seen in Return of the Jedi. I believe that you can release Peter from there.”

He rushed for the panel. None of the buttons were labeled, but he assumed the big green one was probably what he was looking for. Maybe. Hopefully.

It was.

The carbonite melted away to reveal the pale, pain-filled face underneath it. Peter’s arms, previously raised in a tense, protective gesture, went limp against his sides as his face fell slack and, all at once, Tony found himself lunging to catch about 5′8″ of shaky, barely-conscious super-kid.

“Peter! Hey, hey. You’re okay.” He collapsed back against the wall and held him tight against his chest. “Shh. Relax, buddy.”

Peter groaned, arms and legs twitching. Tony rubbed his chest gently.

“Easy, Pete. Easy. It’s just me, it’s just Mister Stark. Told you I’d get you out, didn’t I?”

The kid’s head lolled from side to side, eyes blinking rapidly. “W-Where’m I?”

“Some warehouse in the middle of nowhere. Not actually sure exactly where, yet. You, uh, you got Han Solo’d.”

Understanding fell over the kid’s face, and he relaxed. “C-Carbonite.”

“Yeah, buddy. Exactly.” He pulled him closer. “Hey, Karen? Send a distress signal to Rhodey. Let him know where we are.”

“Right away, sir.”

“W-Why do you have K-Karen?”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. got fried along with my suit, but they didn’t touch your watch. Hope you don’t mind me pinching your AI for a bit.”

“‘S long ‘s you give her b-back.”

“Always, kid.” He winced as a particularly violent shiver nearly jerked Peter out of his hold. “You alright?”

The kid turned his face weakly towards Tony’s voice. “Ugh. D-Don’ know. F-Feel gross.”

“Yeah, I can tell. Karen? What’s wrong with him?”

Peter answered for her. “Hybern-nation sickness.”

“ _Seriously?_ ”

“I-I mean, I c-can’t see. ‘N ‘m dizzy. Fits.”

“You can’t  _see_?”

Peter’s head shake was more of a jerk than anything else. “N-No.”

“Shit.” Concern made his chest feel tight. “That can’t be good.”

“Goes away after a w-while.”

“Peter, you’re basing all of this off of a  _fantasy_  movie.”

“B-Best I’ve g-got.”

“Mm.” He dragged a shaky hand through the kid’s hair. “Karen? Anything from Rhodey?”

“He is on his way. ETA: 39 minutes.”

“Tell him to make it 30.”

There’s a solid minute where the only sound is Peter’s ragged breathing.

“Colonel Rhodes would like me to inform you that you are, in his words, a pain in his ass.”

Peter let out a breathless laugh, and Tony decided that, for once, he might actually thank Rhodey for an insult.

\--

Tony sat at the edge of the medical cot in the Quinjet. He could distantly hear Rhodey briefing Cho from the cockpit. F.R.I.D.A.Y. was finishing her third full-body scan of the kid. You know, just to be safe.

“As I’ve said before, Boss. The hibernation sickness, as Mister Parker calls it, does not appear life-threatening. He just needs fluids and rest.”

Tony glanced at the IV and scratched absentmindedly at Peter’s sweat-damp curls. “I’ve got the fluids.”

“I’ll be okay, Mister Stark.” He watched Peter try to pinpoint exactly where to look. He reached out and tilted the kid’s chin until his gaze was pointed in the right spot. “‘S kinda cool, y’know.”

“I’m sorry, but how can any part of this experience be considered  _cool_?”

“‘M just like Han Solo. ‘S an honor.”

He stared, then laughed. “Only you.”

Peter turned his face into Tony’s hand and let his eyes fall shut. “Hey, Mister Stark?”

“Yeah, buddy?”

“Can we watch Star Wars when we get back?”

“No. Not ever.”

“ _Ever_?”

“Let’s start with a month and go from there.”

There was a pause, long enough that Tony was nearly sure Peter had dozed off. Then, he shifted and grinned.

“Can we watch Star Trek instead?”

Tony let out a bark of laughter. “Sure, kid. We’ll do Star Trek instead.”


	20. Hey, I'm Gonna Get You Too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter loves Queen. Peter also loves not having panic attacks in the middle of the afternoon.  
> Unfortunately, these two passions don't always mix.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the anon who left the prompt: "pete being a huge ass queen fan and feeling so broken because i can’t listen to what used to be one of his favourite hype up songs anymore due to the snap and ptsd..."

The first time it comes up on his playlist, it’s a Monday. Mondays are weird, because Peter gets to the Tower at 4:00 and Tony doesn’t get out of his weekly meeting with the board of directors until 4:30. That means that he usually spends those 30 minutes sprawled out on the soft couch in the penthouse’s lounge, earbuds in, listening to his music on shuffle until Tony comes to fetch him for the lab.

When the song comes on, Peter tries to listen to it. He really, really does. He doesn’t want Thanos to rule his life, doesn’t want Titan to dictate the  _music_  he listens to. This is one of his favorite songs, so he’s going to let a little PTSD make him skip it, for god’s sake. 

He does fine through the first verse. There’s nothing all that triggering about it. He’s kind of bopping by the time it gets to chorus.

He even survives most of the chorus. He actually thought that he might be able to do this until that goddamn line.

_Hey, I’m gonna get you too…_

He has no idea why it’s  _that_  line that sends him over the edge. Maybe it’s the fact that it’s directed at  _him_. That up until that point, the song had been talking about other people but with that line, it’s talking about  _him_.

That’s how it had gone on Titan, too. Up until it was his turn, he’d been sort of dissociated from the fear of watching everyone else crumble around him. It had been horrifying, yeah, but it had felt like the kind of horrifying you process later. The kind of horrifying that you can defer, step back from, put in your back pocket for a rainy day.

And then The Snap had come for him, and it had hit him all at once that he’d never see another rainy day.

It’s a little hard to depersonalize yourself from that.

He doesn’t remember throwing his phone across the room without enough force to shatter the screen and crack the drywall. He doesn’t remember scrambling over the side of the couch until his back smacks against the bar. He doesn’t remember sinking to the floor, clawing at him arms, sobbing into an empty room.

He doesn’t remember any of this, but that’s how Tony finds him 15 minutes later.

Peter’s vaguely aware of someone entering the room. Of footsteps, first purposeful, then confused, then panicked. They get closer in a rush, and then they go silent and a voice takes their place.

“Pete? Bud? Hey, hey. Look at me.”

He shakes his head, heart pounding. He can’t open his eyes. He can’t watch himself disintegrate. Not again,  _not again_.

“Okay, okay. No looking, then. That’s alright. How about we just breathe, yeah? We’ll just breathe for now.”

“Can’t. Can’t. I-I can’t.”

“You can. You  _can_  breathe. I promise. I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but you can.”

“No, no. Mister Stark, please. I-I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know what’s-”

“You’re having a panic attack, Peter. Do you understand?”

He didn’t understand. He didn’t know what was  _happening_. “‘M gonna disappear.”

There’s a hand on his face, rough and warm. “No, you’re not. You’re not on Titan, kiddo. You’re on the floor in my penthouse. In New York. On Earth. You’re nice and solid, I checked.” The voice’s breath hitches. “Try to open your eyes.”

He does, slowly. The light hurts, but then the figure kneeling beside him shifts and casts most of him in shadow.

Oh, the figure. That’s… that’s a figure he knows. It’s Tony. He knows Tony. Tony’s good. Tony’s safe.

“Hi, buddy.” Tony uses the hand that isn’t cupping Peter’s face to brush some curls away from his forehead. “Everything’s alright. See? No stupid orange dirt, no homicidal aliens. Just you and me and some carpet.”

The adrenaline is starting to recede. For some reason, his brain feels gross and lethargic without it. “Carpet.”

Tony laughs. “Interesting comment to fixate on, but yeah. You’re sitting on carpet.”

Peter glances down. Yup. Carpet. Huh.

“’S really nice carpet, Mister Stark.”

Tony shakes his head a little. “I mean, I guess. If I’m being honest, I’ve never really studied the carpet in here before. Pepper picked it out, I think.”

“Mm.”

He slouches forward all at once, earning him a surprised yelp from Tony as the man scrambled to stop him from face planting.

“Jesus Christ, kid. If you like that carpet so much, I’ll get you a sample or something. No need to break your nose on it.”

“Sorry.”

Tony tenses against him. “No, nope. Banned word, remember?”

“S-yeah, right. I remember.”

They’re quiet for a moment.

“What triggered that one?”

Peter sighs. Now that the panic had faded, the shame was swelling to take its place. “Song.”

“A song? What song?”

“Another One Bites The, uh, the y’know. By Queen.”

“Oh. Yeah, of course. I can imagine that that one might bring up some unpleasant memories, huh?”

“‘S so stupid. I  _love_  Queen.”

Tony adjusts his hold on him and sighs. “I’m well aware. They’ve got lots of other songs, though. Lots of other _un-triggery_  songs. You know, the kind that won’t result with me coming in from a very stressful meeting to find my kid huddled against the bar sobbing his eyes out.”

Peter pulls away in surprise, then winces when the back of his head thrums with pain. “Oh, ouch.”

Tony zeroes in on him with the single-mindedness of a bloodhound. “ _Ouch_? Where ouch?”

“‘S nothing. Just my head. Think I must’ve hit it against the counter.”

“You think?”

“I don’t really remember how I, uh, got over here, to be honest.”

“Oh, I love that.” Tony rolls his eyes. “You feel okay to stand? I wanna get you to the MedBay so F.R.I.D.A.Y. can check you over.”

“Yeah, I’m good.” He lets his mentor help him to his feet and gently guide him towards the elevator. “’M still sad about the song.”

Tony rubs his arm in consolation. “Once F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s given you the all clear, we’ll remind ourselves of everything else Queen has to offer. Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy is a personal favorite of mine-”

“It would be-”

“ _Oi_ , lose the cheek. What about We Will Rock You, huh? That’s a good one…”


	21. Death’s The Only Thing You Haven’t Tried

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kids are afraid of death. Fortunately for most kids, they very rarely have to look it in the face.  
> Peter does, though. Every superhero does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the anon who left the prompt: "We know Peter was scared of dying at the end of IW, but for how long? How many nights did he stay up panicking about dying and what happens next, since nobody really knows? How many days did he feel selfish for being scared when he could save lives, and then risking his own anyways? How long until Tony found out, which in turn made his guilt for Peter’s death that much worse?"

He found Peter on the roof.

The kid wasn’t by the edge or anything. Actually, he was smack in the center. It had been a new moon a couple nights ago, so the sky was dark. Mist hung over the fields surrounding the Compound. If Tony was being honest, it kind of looked like the set of a horror movie.

Peter was lying flat on his back, eyes pointed up at the stars. He could see the kid’s fingers lazily dragging over the rough texture of the roof as he got closer. Keeping his hands busy. That was something he did a lot.

He sat next to him, winced, paused, then dropped back until they were lying side by side. Peter never once acknowledged his presence, but he also didn’t start when their shoulders bumped, either. His senses must’ve told him where Tony was long before his vision could’ve.

“Hey there, bud. It’s late. Or,” he glanced at his watch, “rather, it’s early. Happy Sunday, kiddo. It’s 1:00 am.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Oh? So why are we out on a cold roof and not tucked away in our warm beds? To think, I give you a nice, memory foam mattress and you opt for a bit of concrete.”

“I’m just… thinking.”

He turned his head so he could watch Peter’s silhouette. “Sharing is caring, y’know. So spill.”

The kid sighed, eyes flickering down. “I-I don’t want to die.”

“Why would you be dying?”

“We’re all gonna die.”

“Yeah, but you’re a nice, long way out from having to worry about that.”

“Spider-Man almost dies all the time, Mister Stark. Statistically speaking, I’m probably gonna have shorter lifespan than the average person.”

It wasn’t the first time Tony had considered what being a superhero might mean for Peter’s life expectancy, but it  _was_  the first time he’d realized that Peter might’ve thought about it, too.

“You’re discounting your spidery DNA. Who knows what that might do to you.”

“Y-Yeah. I guess.”

Peter’s voice was wet. Tony sat up on his elbows and felt his heart skip a beat when he caught sight of his face. God, the kid was  _crying_.

“Whoa, whoa. It’s-It’s alright, Pete. Everyone’s a little freaked about dying. But you’ve got me on your side. I’m not gonna let you die. It’s actually on the top of my list of things that I’m  _not_  going to let happen.”

There was something grave and deep and impossible  _old_  about Peter’s voice when he responded.

“You can’t protect me from everything.”

“I can damn well try.”

The kid let out a choked sob. “I don’t even know how to explain it without sounding  _stupid_.”

“Hey, I don’t care. Just talk to me. I promise I won’t think you’re stupid.”

_I never could._

“I… I don’t know what  _happens_. You know, once it’s all over. Once I’m… once I’m  _dead_ , I guess. After everything I did, all the things I felt, do I just get, like… snuffed out? I know it’s not technically a tragedy for  _me_  because once it’s over I’ll never even know but I still… I don’t want to just  _stop_. To just be  _nothing_. A-And what if there is something, and I’m alone? Or… or what if I wasn’t good enough to get into heaven or whatever and I end up… I end up somewhere  _bad_?”

“Easy, Peter.” He set a light hand on the kid’s chest. “Breathe. Take a breath.”

Peter shook his head, face scrunched up and lungs heaving. “S-See it’s s-so stupid. I-”

“Oi. Not stupid. You’re… you’re so young, Pete. It’s pretty normal to be scared of this kind of stuff at your age. At  _any_  age.”

Peter rolled over on his side, face streaked with tears. His voice was tentative, unsure. “Are you scared? Of dying?”

He watched the kid’s face quietly for a moment, considering.

“Not… scared, exactly. There was a time where I was rather looking forward to it. I’ve gotten slightly less comfortable with the idea recently, though. It’s not fear, though. More… reluctance.”

“Why?“

“Why am I more reluctant now?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve got things to do. Things I  _want_  to do.” He smirked a little. “Bother  _you_  until I’m nice and gray, for one.”

Peter shifted closer until Tony lifted his arm and tucked it around his shoulders. “Were you scared when you were my age?”

“I imagine so.”

“You don’t remember?”

“I was a sophomore at MIT by the time I was your age. I… didn’t exactly give myself a lot of time to consider it.”

“Oh.”

He ruffled the kid’s hair slowly, finding a surprising amount of peace in the moment. “It’ll get better, buddy. And you aren’t gonna die anytime soon, alright? That’s a promise.”

 


	22. Shout, Shout, Let It All Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the anon who left the prompt: "peter doing something self sacrificing and stupidly heroic during a fight and tony is like. fucking screaming at him once they’re safe cause he doesn’t wanna loose his kid but he stops when he sees peters eyes wide in fear, hands shaking, knees about to give out and tony realizes just how fucking scary it must’ve been to have to step up and do whatever the stupidly heroic act was, especially for a teenager..."
> 
> WARNINGS: mention of past child abuse, lots of explicit language, yelling

Tony barely even recovered from the initial shockwave of the explosion, dust barely beginning to settle into the cracks on the sidewalk he’d been thrown into, before he was screaming into the comms.

“Spider-Man, report!” Static. “Pete? C’mon, Pete. Fuckin’  _talk to me,_ damn it _.”_

A crackle, and then a familiar voice that was decidedly  _not Peter._  “I’ve got him, Tones. Look up.”

A second later, Rhodey was dropping a soot-covered Spider-Man onto the pavement in front of him.

For some reason, the sight of the kid made his blood boil. The fear was still there, feeding him a steady stream of heart palpitations and adrenaline, but all he could focus on was the red-hot anger that seemed to spread through his entire body.

As it was, he didn’t even wait for Peter to be steady on his feet before snapping.

“What the  _fuck_  was that?”

The kid tugged off his mask, revealing a blood-flushed face and over-blown pupils. “I-I-”

“You  _what_?” He could still feel his heart hammering against his ribs, the sight of Peter swinging towards a fucking  _bomb_  imprinted behind his eyes. “What could you possible say to justify what you just did?” When Peter stayed silent, he gestured wildly. “No, no. That wasn’t fucking rhetorical, Peter. I’m serious. Go ahead. I can’t  _wait_  to hear it.”

Peter blinked in surprise, as if he was confused by Tony’s lack of comfort and sudden influx of anger. “There were… there were still people there. I-I couldn’t just  _leave_  them-”

“You damn well could’ve!” Some distant part of him recoiled from how similar his voice sounded to Howard’s, how perfect his father’s rage seemed settle in his bones. It didn’t stop him, though. If anything, it only added fuel to the fire. “I  _ordered_  you to leave, and I expect you to obey my orders. Do you understand me?”

“I… I didn’t think you would-”

“No, Peter. You evidently  _didn’t_  think.” Pain raced down his left arm, and he clenched his fist hard enough for his fingernails to pierce the skin of his palm. “God, I could fucking  _throttle_  you right now.”

Peter flinched at the threat, tripping anxiously over his own words. “I-I’m s-sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to-”

“You could’ve died!” He wasn’t sure his voice could get any louder, but he’d evidently been wrong. The force of his shout had Peter stumbling away. The retreat sparked some predatory instinct in his gut, and he stalked after him until the kid’s back struck the front of a building. “Do you understand that, Peter? You could’ve  _died_. Is that something you want? Do you  _want_  to die? God,  _fuck_ , you’re tempting me to  _help you_.”

Peter shook his head, and a few tears slipped down his cheeks. For a minute, his fury shuddered. But then he remembered the moment the bomb detonated, not knowing where Peter was, having last seen him right there, right in the blast zone, right where the explosion’s violence wouldn’t even leave him a  _body_  to bury, and the veil of red fell back over his eyes.

“Well?” He lunged forward, and Peter instinctively brought his arms up to shield himself. He snatched him by his wrists and  _shook_. Hard. Hard enough that he heard the dull  _thud_  of Peter’s back smacking against the brick behind him. “Answer me, Peter. You can speak, can’t you?”

All he got in response to the question was a choked off sob. A part of him to wanted nothing more than to stop, to protect the kid from whatever threat there was (even if that threat was  _himself_ ), but he couldn’t. He  _couldn’t_.

He wondered if this is what Howard had felt like, too. If he’d ever once wished he’d backed off once it was already too fucking late.

He was distantly aware of him shaking Peter again. “Well? Can’t you?”

The kid was staring at him with a wide-eyed expression that Tony had never seen directed at him before. His was breathless, caught somewhere between outright sobs and stunned silence. “Y-Yes, sir.”

“Then answer me. Do you want to fucking die? Is that what you want?”

“No.  _No_. I-I-I’m so s-sorry. I’m  _sorry_.”

“Oh, I’m gonna  _make_  you fucking sorry-”

A gentle hand landed on his shoulder, and Rhodey’s level voice poked at his fury. “Tony, I think it’s time to back off.”

He tried to jerk away. “Rhodey-”

“You’re hurting him, Tones. Let go.”

_You’re hurting him._

_I’m hurting him._

He blinked, and his gaze jumped from Peter’s face, to the tears that had slipped down to his chin, to the bruising grip he had on the kid’s wrists.

_I’m… I’m… oh my god, I’m hurting him._

_I hurt him._

He let go all at once. Stepped back. Felt shame, cold and vicious, sweep through him.

He looked down at his hands, and he didn’t see his own. He saw Howard’s.

_I wanted to hit him. If… If Rhodey hadn’t stopped me, I think I might have hit him._

“Peter…”

All at once, Tony wondered how the hell the kid was still standing. Every inch of him was trembling, face somehow flushed and pale in all the wrong places.

“I-I’m so sorry, sir. Mister Stark. I-I didn’t… I don’t want to die. I’m sorry. Please… please don’t be mad. I’m… I’m…”

“It’s alright, Peter.” Rhodey stepped up beside Tony, hand still sitting firmly on his friend’s shoulder. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

“N-No.”

“There. That’s good. See, Tony? Peter’s just fine. Everything’s fine.”

_Nothing is fine. I wanted to hit him._

_I wanted… I wanted to hit him._

“I-I need to go.” He stumbled backwards until the suit folded over his chest, eyes never leaving the way Peter rubbed at his wrists and winced. “I… I just… I have to go.”

“Tones-”

“I need to go.”

The suit’s repulsers whined as he shot upwards.

_I wanted to hit him._

\--

He stumbled into the lab and fell onto his workbench, reaching blindly for the nearest project and attacking it with shaking hands.

_I wanted to hit him._

He knew, right there in that moment, that he could never give himself the chance to consider it again.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.? Don’t let anyone in. I want to be alone.”

“Of course, Boss.”

_I wanted to hit him._

\--

He didn’t see a single soul for the next three days, but he never stopped seeing the look on Peter’s face when he’d pressed himself against the wall.

It had been fear.

Peter had looked at him with  _fear_.

\--

“Mister Stark?”

He started so violently that he dropped the wrench he’d been holding, spinning around to stare at the teenager standing in his doorway. “Peter? What-how did you-?”

The kid glanced down shyly. “F.R.I.D.A.Y. let me in.”

“Well, she shouldn’t have.” He turned back to his workbench and gripped the edge until his knuckles turned white. “I didn’t want to be disturbed.”

“I know. I, uh, I sort of convinced her. She’s worried about you, I think.” He heard a shuffling as Peter moved closer. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“I… I’m fine, too. Just so you know. I’m  _fine_.”

“Good. That’s good.”  _Swallow. Breathe._  “Now go home.”

“No, thank you.”

He stood and whipped to face him. “Excuse me?”

Peter flinched, but stood his ground. “Are you going to shout at me again?”

Well, that took the wind out of his sails. His shoulders slumped, head bowing briefly before drifting back up. “No, I’m not.”

“Oh, good. That’s… that’s nice.” Peter fiddled nervously with his hands. “Mister Rhodey and I talked after you left.”

He grit his teeth. “Oh?”

“Yeah. I-I know… I know your father wasn’t that great-”

“Peter-”

“And Mister Rhodey told me that he used to… to shout and yell and… and throw things-”

“Peter-”

“But you’re _not him_ , Mister Stark. And I… and I forgive you. For what happened earlier. I… I  _forgive you_. I forgave you as soon as you’d run off, actually. So we can just… we can just forget it. You don’t have to-”

“No, wait, stop.” He held up a hand. “We… we can’t just forget it. We can’t.”

“We  _can_ -”

“Peter, we  _can’t_.” Despite himself, he took a few jerky steps forward and reached up to cup to the side of the kid’s face. He didn’t understand when his hands had learned to be this gentle, how they could go from  _this_  to a reflection of Howard with just a minute of rage. “I… I wanted to  _hit_ you. I almost hit you.”

“But you weren’t going to.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. You’d never hit me.” The kid smiled, trust leaking from his eyes. “I know you wouldn’t.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah, of course I do. And… and I’m not just going to let you push me out because of one little thing-”

“You don’t understand, Peter-”

“No. Nope.  _You’re_  the one who shouted at  _me_ , so I think I get the last say.”

He smiled despite himself. “Really?”

Peter grinned back. “Mhm. That’s how this works. And I say that I forgive you. So we can move on now, right?”

“No, actually. Not… just… I… I have to say this.” He grabbed the kid’s shoulders and was surprised by the lack of negative reaction. If anything, Peter leaned into the grip. “You keep saying that I’m… that you’ve forgiven me, but I haven’t actually… you know, apologized. So… so I… I’m… ah, shit, fuck it. I’m  _sorry_ , Peter. I am… I am so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have shouted. That was, uh, that was wrong. And I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have done anything I did, actually. Can I just… can I just blanket apologize? Is that a thing I can do?”

There was something deep and sad in Peter’s gaze. “He never apologized for any of it, did he?”

“Why? Do I sound like I haven’t had a very good example?”

“Well, yeah. Sort of.”

He shook his head. “No, Peter. He… He never apologized.”

“Did he hit you?”

“Oh, Peter…”

“He did, didn’t he? That’s why you’re so caught up on the fact that  _you_  thought about hitting  _me_.”

“You don’t need to worry about that, kid. It’s over now, anyway. Howard was dead long before you were even born.”

The sympathy in Peter’s eyes felt a lot like damnation. He didn’t deserve it. “So he  _did_  hit you.”

“I already told you it doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me.” 

And next thing he knew, the kid was tucking himself underneath his chin and pulling him into a full-on, shameless hug.

“I’m sorry,” Peter muttered, words muffled against his chest.

He balked, slowly bringing his arms up to return the embrace. “For what?”

“That your dad sucked.”

He laughed a little at the kid’s word choice, hand unconsciously rubbing up and down his back. “Yeah, well, that sure as hell wasn’t your fault.”

“But I can still be sorry it happened.”

“You’re a really good kid, Pete, y’know that?” He sighed. “What’d I do to deserve you?”

“I dunno. Maybe it’s the universe apologizing for your dad.” The kid seemed content to prolong the hug for as long as possible. “You don’t have to be him, you know. You can make your own choices. I mean, you do make your own choices. He never said he was sorry, but you did. And all you did was shout at me. That’s not  _that_  bad. And I mean, I kinda deserved it.”

“You definitely did  _not_.”

“I kinda did.”

“You saved people. I’m just… not used to looking after someone who has the same self-sacrificial complex that I do.”

“I swear I’ll try to be more careful, and I’ll try to listen to you when you tell me to do something.”

“And _I_  promise to do my best to be more…  _rational_  whenever you do almost get yourself killed. Deal?”

The kid finally pulled away, a small smile on his face. “Deal.”

It was one of the first promises Tony had ever made that he had every intention of keeping.


	23. My Dad's A Hero To Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the anon who left the prompt: "...Peter accidentally calls Tony dad and gets really flustered/embarrassed. But obviously Tony isn’t mad about it."

“Do you have your homework?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure? Did you check?”

“ _Yes._  I have it. I’m sure.”

“Is your phone charged?”

“99%.”

“I’ll allow it. What about a jacket? You’re only wearing a hoodie and it’s barely over freezing outside.”

“It’s 43 degrees. That’s significantly over freezing.”

“It’s still cold, so jacket, or you’ll make yourself sick. Bring a hat, too. It’s windy and if you get an ear infection then May will kill me.”

“Whatever you say,  _Dad_.”

Peter froze, backpack half-slung over his shoulder.

_Fuck. Bad move, Parker. Why the hell possessed you to say-_

“Sorry, is that an attitude you’re copping with me?” Tony was leaning against the counter, mug of coffee cradled between both hands and a smirk playing on his lips. “Show your father some respect.”

“Sorry. Sorry. Not an attitude. I, uh, I was just joking. Didn’t mean to, like, say that. I’ll-I’ll go.”

“Whoa there, Pete.” Tony set the mug on the counter with a muted  _clank_  and stepped forward to block his exit. “Not so fast.”

He cringed. “I-I’m really sorry, Mister Stark-”

“You should be.” 

_I fucked up. I fucked up. I fucked-_

A small smile. Tony flicked his shoulder. “I told you to get a jacket ages ago and you still aren’t wearing one.”

_Wait… what?_

“Oh, well, I, uh…”

Tony rolled his eyes and disappeared around the corner, returning a few moments later with Peter’s warmest jacket in his hands. When the teenager didn’t reach for it, he impatiently started threading his arms through the sleeves.

Peter startled. “I can-I can do it myself, Mister Stark. I’m not a  _baby_.”

“Uh huh.” Tony finished pulling the jacket over his shoulders and did up the zipper before Peter could think to reach for it. “There.  _Now_  Spider-baby’s ready for school.” He ruffled his hair with a grin. “Go on, then. Go learn.” He faked a sniffle. “God, they grow up so fast.”

He retreated to the door before Tony could try out anymore of his dad jokes, forcing down a laugh.

“Bye, Mister Stark. I’ll see you after patrol.”

“Bye, son! Don’t forget your old man while you’re out saving the world!”

The moment he was out of earshot, he burst out laughing.

_I’m never going to live that down._


	24. Just Let Me Hold You (Like A Hostage)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An extended scene between when Tony, Peter, and Strange originally meet the Guardians on the Q-Ship and when they all start planning on Titan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing this so long ago. It’s dedicated to agib for the original idea, and to hopeless_hope for sparking it up again and giving me the inspiration to finish it.

He doesn’t even know how it happened.

One minute, he’d been crashing an spaceship onto an alien planet. The next, his spider sense was flashing and he was being flung (for the second time in a handful of minutes) across the ship, Iron Spider suit clanging and screeching as it grated against the metal floors.

There was an alien with antennas, which was  _weird_ , and then some guy with a mask kicked him down. He knew, distantly, that he should never have let himself get separated from Mister Stark in the first place. He didn’t have a lot of practice fighting multiple opponents at once, and he wasn’t sure Berlin really counted.

There was just so much happening. Pieces of the damaged ship were still breaking off. He could hear pipes bursting, circuits sparking. The air was a chaos of shouts and repulsers and the hiss and sizzle of Doctor Strange’s magic. He’d lost contact with Karen way back on Earth, when he’d torn off his original mask, but the complex equations and data from the heads-up display still raced in the corners of his vision. All he could see was flashes: flashes of movement, of guns, of falling debris. There was blood in his mouth, blood in his nose. Every lungful of air was sweet with sweat and smoke and kicked up dust. His suit was too tight, too tight,  _too tight_. The metal plates pressed against his skin and he didn’t think they’d ever come off.

For a minute, he really didn’t want to be a superhero anymore.

He scrambled across the ceiling above Mask Guy. He had to get behind him, right? He could’ve sworn Mister Stark had told him to get behind the enemy during training once. Or was that just something he’d learned from the video games he played with Ned on Sunday afternoons? Either way, it was the only plan he had. 

It turned out to be a bad plan. A very, very bad plan.

He wasn’t thinking straight, and not taking that into account was his major mistake. His vision was so bright, so skewed, that he didn’t even notice Mask Guy turn to stare straight at him when he jumped, the extra legs Mister Stark had put in his suit curling around him protectively.

Not that it mattered, of course. The ropes of electricity that snapped around his torso made the whole suit short circuit anyway.

Everything got even scarier after that. A mix of sensory overload and, you know, being  _electrocuted_ , made his brain fuzz out. Even after the shock stopped (but the ropes stayed, to his dismay, clamped tightly around his ribcage), it still took him a minute to re-acclimate himself to having a body.

By the time that happened, there was an arm around his neck and a gun against his head.

Oh. Oh shit.

Mask Guy hauled him to where Mister Stark and Doctor Strange were still fighting with the other aliens. The gun squealed loudly in his ear as he armed it.

“Everybody stay where you are! Chill the eff out!”

Peter only felt a little bit better when Mask Guy turned to gun to point at Mister Stark. “I’m gonna ask you this it one time. Where is Gamora?”

He could see his mentor swallow hard, eyes dancing between Peter and Mask Guy (who had disengaged said mask and, from what Peter could see from the corner of his eye, looked surprisingly human) as he held his repulser towards them.

Mister Stark’s mask had also been retracted, and it struck Peter rather suddenly that he’d never actually been on the receiving end of his fury before. Sure, his mentor had been mad after the Ferry Incident, but that was nothing compared to the rage burning behind his eyes now.

He looked livid. And… scared. Really, really scared.

For some reason, his adrenaline-fueled mind couldn’t reason why.

“Yeah. I’ll do you one better.  _Who_  is Gamora?”

It wasn’t until the Blue Alien spoke that Peter realized Mister Stark had a hostage of his own. “I’ll do  _you_  one better.  _Why_  is Gamora?”

If Peter wasn’t so sure he was only a few seconds away from  _literally_ dying, he might have laughed.

Mask Guy’s voice was murderous. The gun was back against his temple. He couldn’t feel the metal through his mask, but he imagined it was cold. “Tell me where the girl is or I swear to you I’m gonna french fry this little freak.”

Something washed over Mister Stark’s face at the threat. Something wild and vulnerable. His voice was a mix of harsh determination and pure terror. “Let’s do it! You shoot my guy and I blast him! Let’s go!”

A massive gun folded out from Mister Stark’s gauntlet at the threat. Despite the circumstances, Peter felt a brief flash of awe at his mentor’s suit. It was  _cool._

“Do it, Quill. I can take it.”

Another wave of fear washed through his veins. Maybe the Blue Alien  _could_  take it. Peter was 90% sure that a direct blast from Mask Guy’s gun at close range would kill him, even with the safety measures he knew Mister Stark had packed into the suit. 

Then, Antenna Alien spoke. “No! He can’t take it!”

Doctor Strange shook his head dryly. “She’s right. You can’t.”

“Oh, yeah? You don’t wanna tell me where she is? That’s fine. I’ll kill all three of you and I’ll beat it out of Thanos myself. Starting with you.” 

Mask Guy’s arm tightened around his throat. The gun jammed into his temple hard enough to ache. Tears stung at his eyes. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to die.  _Please_. He didn’t want to-

“Wait, what, Thanos? Alright, let me ask  _you_  this one time. What master do you serve?”

“What master do I serve? What am I supposed to say  _Jesus_?”

Some of the fear left Mister Stark’s body. In fact, he almost looked annoyed, like when Peter told a really bad pun in the middle of a fight. “You’re from Earth.”

“I’m not from Earth. I’m from Missouri.”

“Yeah, that’s on Earth, dipshit. What are you hassling us for?”

_He’s from Earth. He’s from Earth. He should know Mister Stark. Iron Man. He should know._

He finally got up the courage to speak, and he hated how small and childish his voice sounded. He was sure Mister Stark could hear that he’d been choking back tears. “So you’re not… with… Thanos?”

“ _With_  Thanos? No! I’m here to kill Thanos. He took my girl.” The gun fell away from his head. “Wait, who  _are_  you?”

The mask retracted. The suit must have sensed the danger had passed. 

He tried to force bravery into his voice. “We’re the Avengers, man.”

The arm around his neck disappeared. He pushed out a breath of relief and hauled in his first full lungful of air in god knows how long. The restraints around his torso were still painfully right, but at least he didn’t have a gun shoved against his head anymore. At least Mister Stark only looked a little bit frightened.

Antenna Alien looked surprised. “You’re the ones Thor told us about.”

“You know Thor?”

“Yeah. Tall guy, not that good-looking,” Peter couldn’t help but flinch back at that, face scrunching in indignation, “needed saving.”

“Where is he now?”

“Nidavellir.”

Mister Stark’s mouth twitched in frustration. “I’m sorry, he’s  _where_?”

“Nidavellir. Place that makes Titan-killing weapons, apparently. He said he needed a hammer.”

“He  _has_  a hammer.”

“He told us that his first one got destroyed.”

“How the  _hell_  did-” Mister Stark shook his head. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. We’re good, right? Awesome. Peter, c’mere.”

Mask Guy reached forward and held Peter’s bicep in an unforgiving grip. “Whoa, slow down. You give me my guy, and I give you yours.”

“Fine.” Mister Stark gestured for Blue Alien to get to his feet and then pointed at Peter’s chest. “But get those things off of him.”

The electricity binding his arms to his side disappeared and he relaxed, wincing the muscles in his shoulders pulled. Mask Guy shoved him forward as Mister Stark did the same with Blue Alien. The moment he was in reach, his mentor lunged forward and hauled him a few stumbled steps backward. 

Mister Stark kept a firm grip on his arm as he maneuvered himself so that he was between Peter and any danger. He didn’t look at him, although Peter could tell he was dying to.

“You good, kid?”

“Y-Yeah.”

“Alright. Hang in there.” He watched Mask Guy calculatingly. “You gonna introduce yourselves?”

“Quill, but most people call me Star-Lord.” He pointed at Blue Alien, then Antenna Lady. “That’s Drax and Mantis. Your turn.”

“I’m Tony,” he nodded in Strange’s direction, “Steven Strange,” he tugged Peter so he was just slightly visible to the other gang, “and this is Peter.”

Quill’s face brightened. “Hey! My name’s Peter, too!”

He forced a shaky smile on his face. He felt light-headed. “It’s a good name.”

“Yeah it is!”

“Alright, alright.” His mentor squeezed his arm lightly. “This is nice and all, but I’m gonna need some confirmation that we’re working together here. So,” he took a few steps forward, dragging Peter behind him, and held out his hand, “truce?”

Quill met him in the middle and gave a sharp nod. “Truce.”

“Perfect.” Mister Stark swung to face Peter head on, gripping his shoulders to hold him steady. “Hey. Hi. You hurt?”

“I-I don’t think so.” He swayed a little. The ground didn’t feel very stable, all of a sudden. “But I, uh, I think I need to sit down.”

“Okay, okay. Easy.” His mentor lowered him to the floor slowly, kneeling in front of him and holding him in a sitting position with concern in his eyes. “You’re alright.”

Quill’s face popped up over Mister Stark’s shoulder. “Is he okay?”

Mister Stark shrugged. “Strange?”

The sorcerer wandered over and looked Peter up and down. “Did his suit report any major injuries?”

“No. Just bruises.”

“It’s just adrenaline, then.” Strange gave Mister Stark a significant look. “He’s only a child, after all.”

The world spun around him lazily, like he was on a really bad tilt-a-whirl. “‘M not a child.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Mister Stark cradled the back of his head as he laid him down, leaving his hand buried in his hair like a makeshift pillow. “Not a child, we know. Now take a breather.”

Quill seemed to survey Peter, and winced at whatever it was he saw. “Uh, he doesn’t look too good, does he?”

Uh oh. Mister Stark looked  _pissed._  His head snapped towards Quill and his voice dripped with venom. “Yeah, he doesn’t. Probably has something to do with the fact you scared the shit out of him, asshole.”

Quill raised his hands in surrender. “Hey, listen. I’m sorry, man. Didn’t know we were on the same side.”

“Doesn’t give you a right to-”

“Mister Stark?” He winced at the way his voice wobbled. God, he  _really_ didn’t wanna cry. He was an Avenger now, and Avengers didn’t cry, even if they  _were_  stranded in a wrecked spaceship on the homeworld of a psychotic alien. “‘S okay. Jus’ gimme a second, and I’ll be fine.”

He liked the way Mister Stark’s face melted when he looked back at him. It made his chest feel warm and gooey, despite the adrenaline crash. 

“I know you’ll be fine, kiddo, but you’re gonna stay right there until you’re 100% again, y’hear me? No jumping the gun on this one. There’re only so many heart attacks I can handle in one go.”

He gave a half-hearted nod, then dropped his head back against the cool metal floor with an exhausted sigh.

God, he hadn’t even gotten to the big fight yet, and he already felt like he could sleep for a million years.

Mister Stark’s hand, his  _real_  hand, not the gauntlet, was suddenly pressed flat against his forehead. “You doing okay, buddy?”

“Mhm. Just… taking a sec.”

His mentor’s voice was apologetic. “Alright. Just don’t fall asleep, okay? I’m sorry, kid, but we don’t have time for naps.”

He flexed his fingers and blinked his eyes back open, suppressing a groan at the ache in his ribs. His gaze collided with Mister Stark’s, and there was a brief moment when neither spoke.

Up until that point, he hadn’t really realized that fear in Mister Stark’s eyes hadn’t been for himself, or for Earth, or even for the universe as a whole.

Now, though, the subject of his mentor’s terror hit him like a ton of bricks.

The fear was for  _him_.

A fresh wave of tears glazed his vision, and he blinked them away.

“This’s,” he swallowed, offering his mentor a lopsided grin, “this’s been a really long day, Mister Stark.”

He won a wry smile in return. “Yeah, kid, it has.”

“It’s only gonna get longer, huh?”

“Probably.” Mister Stark ran his hand through his hair, either not noticing or not caring about how stiff it was with drying sweat. “But it’ll be over eventually. You just gotta stay alive until then, alright? Promise me. Promise me that your number one priority’ll be staying alive.”

He nodded, desperately wanting to relieve some of the terror in his mentor’s eyes.

“I promise.”

He really hoped that it was a promise he wouldn’t have to break.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


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